


if the world stops turning

by citation (hiraaa), K_Sakura7, meshiin, wtvrai



Category: MYTEEN (Band), Produce X 101 (TV), UNIQ (Band), UP10TION, VICTON (Band), X1 (Band)
Genre: ((rated M for violence. sexual content. mentions and usage of drugs)), Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mafia AU, Mystery, Thriller, blame X1 teasers for god's sake, lots of main characters, please excuse us it's 1 AM, plot heavy, we were really crazy when we made this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraaa/pseuds/citation, https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Sakura7/pseuds/K_Sakura7, https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshiin/pseuds/meshiin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtvrai/pseuds/wtvrai
Summary: When the mafia empire was destroyed in a single night, the families crumbled like a house of cards, the chess pieces were ticking bombs, and they might just burn down the whole world with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't let the relationship tags scare you. It'll all make sense :)
> 
> ((Oh and also! The main characters in this story are the same age as their real-life counterparts now.))
> 
> ___
> 
> [edit: 1/12/2019] **for a taste of what's to come in this story, please do check out: [_if the world stops turning trailer_](https://twitter.com/narangsalja/status/1201095140728639488) **

Lee Dongwook was killed. The head of the powerful Lee Mafia Family and his entire family was announced brutally massacred in one night. His death alone shook the mafia world. Lee Dongwook, Head of the Lee Family, was a charming man yet he wouldn’t bat an eye when pulling the trigger of his favorite revolver. The Lee Family ruled the mafia world for generations. It wasn’t any secret that this family had been targeted with many stray bullets, relentless attacks from other families, even federal investigations. But somehow, _somehow,_ they had managed to dodge all of them. 

But this time, death had finally found— not only Lee Dongwook, but his entire empire— and shattered them to dust. The day before, the Lee Family had been preparing for a big announcement in front of their alliances and associates. People predicted it to be about the future heir of the Lee Family. However, they ended up never finding out what the big announcement was.

The whole family was found massacred the next morning. People were killed and the proud, tall mansion was burned down. 

The police did a body count upon arriving at the crime scene. A rough number of 60 people (including the body of Lee Dongwook himself) was recovered and brought in for autopsy. Some were never recovered. Police suspected that they were either burned to ashes and were unable to be identified, or were killed somewhere else. 

Two days after the massacre, the mafia world collectively held a respectful funeral for the head of the Lee Family in a huge funeral home. The funeral was led by the heir of the Han Family, Han Seungwoo, and the heir of the Cho Family, Cho Seungyoun. Two families that had been in an alliance with the Lee Family the longest. Both clad in their black funeral suits, the two young men stood near the hand-painted casket that belonged to Lee Dongwook, and paid their respects to the man who was known to be Ruler of the Mafia.

“I’ve known Uncle since I was little,” Han Seungwoo started his eulogy. He looked up and noticed that a hundred pair of eyes were on him. “Uncle treated me nicely. He taught me how to shoot a shotgun when I was ten years old. He complained that I should’ve mastered that at the age of seven because he did.”

Laughter erupted from the mourners and Seungwoo smiled.

“But most of all, he taught me the value of hard work and brotherhood. He was the kind of Boss that every don looked up to and every subordinate adored. I wish to be like him some day.” 

Seungwoo looked at the photo of Lee Dongwook on top of the casket who was smiling proudly at the camera.

“We’ll miss you, Uncle,” he ended with a soft tone. Soft claps from the mourners accompanied Seungwoo as he made his way back to his seat. 

Seungyoun got up the podium next and observed the picture before smiling. “I used to call him Boss. He was... the most respectful human being that I have ever met in my entire life. And I have met many people.”

There was a slight pause. He took in the sight of the bright sky above them before continuing.

“His words that stuck with me was that the world is beautiful as it is. Sadly, today the world mourned for your loss, Boss.” Seungyoun ended it with a bitter saying. He glanced at the picture one more time with a painful gaze. 

Both Han Seungwoo and Cho Seungyoun stood near the casket as the dons of different families walked up to pay their respects, greeting some of the older ones with a warm smile, and helping escort the crying ones. 

“The two of you throw a wonderful funeral,” one of the don’s wife muttered between her sobs. “I’m sure the Lee Family would have been happy to have all of you arrange their funeral.”

Han Seungwoo smiled as he pulled the middle-aged woman into a tight embrace. “We’re happy to hear that from you, Aunty. Thank you for coming.” 

Cho Seungyoun followed with a warm smile after Seungwoo released her from his embrace. “It’s a great honor to hear that from you, Aunty.”

“The two of you will grow into great dons, Han Seungwoo, Cho Seungyoun,” another don commented as he patted both of the young men on their shoulders. He leaned closer so only the three of them could hear. He then whispered, “Or maybe one of you will snatch the chair where Lee Dongwook used to sit on so proudly?”

The man then roared with laughter and patted both Seungwoo and Seungyoun’s shoulders again before leaving. More dons approached the young heir of the Han and Cho Family, appreciating them for throwing such a wonderful and delightful funeral. People kept noting that they felt safe to have such nice and good young dons that would take their places later on. 

_ “They’ll be the strongest dons later.”_

_ “They’ll bring the mafia to its glory days again.” _

Han Seungwoo and Cho Seungyoun returned the comments with warm smiles, fascinating the crowd. Little did the crowd know, everything was not as it seemed.

The funeral had ended.

The funeral house was almost empty, aside from a few people waiting for their rides at the parking lot. Cho Seungyoun and Han Seungwoo were two of them.

Seungwoo took a drag of his cigarette. The sun was setting already, painting the world below in a warm, orange glow. For a while he stared at the sky, his expression unreadable.

“I guess this is where we part,” he said.

Seungyoun replied with a small smirk as he loosened the tie around his neck. “Don’t be sad. We might meet each other sooner than later,” he taunted. 

The tension rose creepingly. An unspoken war, silent spite, was brewing between the two heads of the current biggest families.

“My ride's here,” Seungwoo said, throwing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his foot. “Best of luck,” he ended.

Seungyoun clenched his jaw. 

“Best of luck, Han Seungwoo.”

* * *

The news was explosive and spread like wildfire.

Even before television channels began to explode with words that _ the great Lee Dongwook was gone,_ the people living in the shadows were already aware of it all.

News travelled fast in the world of mafia. And not only fast, but far more elaborate. The public only knew that the Lee Family’s mansion had caught fire and that there were no survivors. But a massacre? Only the mafia were aware of that fact.

From one family to the other, the vague details of the great leader’s demise became known. People began to speculate.

And now after the funeral, the speculation and little snippets of news had gotten more and more intense. With hundreds of people talking about the bizarre and mysterious deaths, conflicting “facts” were bound to happen. Many things just simply didn’t add up.

_ Who was the one that not only brought down Lee Dongwook, but the whole family as well? _

_ What kind of monster was able to take down an entire empire in the span of a single night? _

It just seemed too bizarre— too _ terrifying _to imagine. But the reality was there right in front of their eyes.

So the families began to talk. And out of all the fragments of speculation and news, one common name had emerged. The source of the information was unclear— where it had originated from, _ who _it had originated from— but it was out in the open. And by now, everyone in the mafia world knew his name.

_ Kim Wooseok. _

People shook their heads in disbelief. They began to dig up information about this Kim Wooseok. But the deeper they dug, the stronger their disbelief became.

How could a leader _ without a family _do all of this? How could a man... who was barely known... manage to wipe out an entire family that had stood strong for generations?

_ “And even if he really was the one who did it,” _ people said. _ “Why? Why did he do it?” _

With barely any information on Kim Wooseok, the speculations were based on the weakest of hunches.

Wooseok had previously killed one or two people. That was all people knew. Nothing more. Nothing less.

_ So why? _

_ “He probably had a connection with Dongwook,” _ one said. _ “Maybe Dongwook’s heir?” _

_ “But Kim Wooseok has no family,” _another said.

_ “Or maybe him not having a family is exactly the point. He takes down the empire, he takes Dongwook’s place.” _

_ “Or... Maybe the other big families have something to do with this.” _

_ “You mean the Cho Family?” _

_ “And the Han Family.” _

_ “You’re saying Kim Wooseok was hired by one of them?” _

_ “It makes sense. Those two families had always wanted more power.” _

_ “Or perhaps it was another underground family.” _

_ “True, true... _

And the speculation continued. They continued and never stopped.

* * *

It was a big, old city.

Some called it home. Some called it a nightmare. It all depended on what one chose to do in the city. Or the luck that one has.

_ Or the bad luck_.

Tall skyscrapers stretched up high, accompanied by clutters and clutters of smaller buildings below. Cars were driven on the cement roads. Sometimes brick roads. It all depended on which part of the city you were in.

Civilians bustled through crowds and sometimes walked on empty streets. They walked past a variety of buildings— some with unpainted bricks and some with elegant carvings that decorated the exterior. Some buildings were tall. Some were small. As if out of place with these old and seemingly ancient buildings, new ones had been built near them. These ones seemed more polished, more _ modern. _But that didn’t take the beauty away from the original buildings that had been with the city for centuries.

Accompanying these buildings were large parks and immense rivers. Equally immense bridges stretched over those rivers, connecting one part of the city with the other.

If one were to ask any civilian wandering around, they might say that it was a beautiful city. It was a... place to be. Especially during the afternoons where the sun shone high in the sky and everything was out in the bright light of day.

_ But how about at night? _ one might ask. _ When the moon is out and the buildings are illuminated by their own lights? _

The civilian might pause, as if thinking.

_ Still beautiful, _ they might answer. _ But within the cover of darkness, more things could happen. Bad things. _

And in this city, a story had begun to unfold.

* * *

“He’s crazy,” Kim Kookheon blurted out as he stared at the board in front of him that was filled with pictures, notes, post-its, and messy scribbled notes. Song Yuvin, who was eating Chinese takeouts beside his supervisor, could only blink confusedly.

“Who?”

“This perp. If you noticed the patterns of his stabbing and everything.” Kookheon huffed, planting the board marker on the desk. He then directed the younger man’s attention to the dozens of photographs depicting bodies of the Lee Family that were taken for investigation purposes. Yuvin noticed that all of the victims’ bodies had huge and deep wounds, both from piercing and slashing, yet they were very clean cut. 

“Is this a professional's work...?” Yuvin muttered under his breath as he examined the photographs closely.

Kookheon shrugged. “A pro who massacred the strongest mafia family with a long dagger that could pierce into someone’s heart.”

He then proceeded to demonstrate as if he was holding a weapon that could pierce into someone.

“Or slash them and make their victims bleed to death,” Kookheon continued, this time demonstrating it by slashing his hand into the air. 

Yuvin could only stare at his supervisor as he looked up from the photographs on the table. “If the public knows that there are people being massacred in such manner— and that it happened to the most famous and strongest mafia family...” 

“The city would go into full-blown panic,” a voice suddenly announced behind Yuvin, startling the younger detective and causing him to almost drop the Chinese takeout stacks beside him. Yuvin successfully caught them in time. The voice belonged to a tall man, raven-haired and a sly grin adorning his face. 

“Working hard, eh, detectives?” The man waved his hand playfully at Kookheon who was pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing tiredly. Kookheon turned to the newly-arrived man and sighed.

“I told you not to show your face in the precinct unless I called you, Lee Jinhyuk,” Kookheon reprimanded with an annoyed tone. The man, Lee Jinhyuk, raised both of his hands in defeat. The grin had not left his face.

“Hey, at least I always bring you awesome information, _Detective_.” This time, he emphasized the _‘detective’ _word, much to Kookheon’s annoyance. Yuvin could see how the older detective tried to calm himself down and probably stop himself from throwing this Lee Jinhyuk out of the police precinct.

“Who are you?” Yuvin asked. 

The tall man grinned as he extended his hand to Yuvin. “Lee Jinhyuk. Your boss’s _ snitch_. And the one who will help you catch this perp.”

* * *

Choi Byungchan fastened his pace as he made his way to his supervisor’s office. His hand was squeezing the newspaper that highlighted today’s news—_ the head of the Lee Family was buried in a big funeral after a crazy fire a few days ago _— while trying to balance a thick file in his other hand. He tossed the file to his desk upon passing it. The supervisor’s office was filled with people for morning briefing and Choi Byungchan was running late. He entered the room quietly and immediately found a place to listen to the morning briefing.

“I want the report of the robbery at the 78th to be done this evening, and that... casino scandal to be done before I leave my office today. You’re all dismissed.” The Editor-in-Chief of The Daily News, Park Sunho, finally ended the morning briefing.

The reporters made their way to exit the room and started getting ready to begin their day. Byungchan was one of them.

“Choi Byungchan! You’re staying!” Sunho called out.

Byungchan paused in his tracks and closed his eyes in defeat. He made his way to stand in front of Sunho’s desk. 

“I got a call from your university," Sunho started. "If you don’t submit your report this semester, they will have to fail you. Again.”

Byungchan knew where the conversation would lead; they would talk about how Byungchan never had the luck of finding a great scoop to report (his lecturer wanted a **Great** scoop, emphasized on the Great; ones that would make headlines for the newspapers, not the columns that Byungchan constantly found his articles in), and Sunho would massage his temple tiredly. 

But today, Byungchan swore it would be different. 

“I’m going to do a scoop on the Cho Family. About how they allegedly have ties with the mafia,” Byungchan blurted. Sunho immediately turned his head towards the younger journalist in front of him so hard, Byungchan worried his neck might snap.

“You... want to write about the Cho Family... The ones whose money is the very reason our newspaper is still here and the ones who are well known for supporting every orphanage and retirement home in this city— no, _ nation_— and how they _ allegedly _have ties with the mafia?!” Sunho asked in disbelief.

Byungchan nodded meekly.

“Are you kidding me?!” Sunho suddenly raised his voice, making Byungchan reflexively shut his eyes in surprise. It was not his first time being the victim of Sunho’s anger but it still scared him sometimes. “You have more luck reporting about random coconut trees than writing about this one!”

Byungchan pulled out the newspaper that he was squeezing earlier and opened it in front of Sunho. The younger man pointed at a photograph of a casket being carried into the funeral home. He pointed at one individual in particular. 

“Cho Seungyoun. The heir of Cho Family. He was at Lee Dongwook’s funeral. He carried the casket and even gave a eulogy for the funeral!”

“Because Lee Dongwook was his godfather! It’s common knowledge!” Sunho reprimanded back.

He could only sigh when he saw Byungchan with a determined look on his face.

“Look. I won’t lie," Sunho then said. "You are one of our best journalists— and you’re not even a full-time journalist in this company. I was going to promote you to be our full-time employee but I can’t do that if you fail to get this scoop.” He pointed at the newspaper that Byungchan had laid out for him. 

“I have my informant. I swear I’ll make it through,” Byungchan replied confidently.

“Who?”

“This guy I met at the bar yesterday— Boss! I swear he’s legit!” Byungchan immediately cut off Sunho before he got the chance to open his mouth and yell at the younger man again. Byungchan sighed. “I know it’s not the most credible lead that I have, but... You know how long I spent doing this research, Boss. Please. It’ll hit big. I promise.”

Sunho massaged his temple again before raising his hand slowly, forming a ‘two’ with his fingers. 

“Two weeks. I’m giving you two weeks to convince me that this is the scoop or I’ll have you transferred out from this company into some porn magazine company.”

Byungchan’s face immediately lit up and he smiled. “I won’t let you down, Boss.” 

He excused himself and ran towards his desk where his deskmate, Choi Suhwan, was waiting for him with his head on his hand. He looked up to find Byungchan making a pleading face at him.

“You gotta give me your contacts from the police,” Byungchan immediately pleaded. He had both of his hands clasped together and he bowed his head in front of Suhwan. 

“No way. You’re gonna do something stupid,” Suhwan answered quickly as he turned his attention back to his computer, ignoring Byungchan’s existence completely. The taller man then crouched near his deskmate.

“Please, I’ll pay your beer tabs for a full week. I have to get that mafia scoop or Sunho will have me shipped off to the porn industry and I’m too innocent for that!” Byungchan whined. Suhwan widened his eyes and turned his attention towards his friend in an almost slow-motion move.

“A scoop on mafia? You really don’t value your life, huh?" Suhwan retorted. "I knew you were reckless, Choi Byungchan, but I didn’t know you were dumb.”

Byungchan sighed and stared intently at his friend. “Please, Suhwan. You know that I’ve been doing research about them for almost two years now. I can do this but I need your help.” 

Suhwan stared at Byungchan for a while. He let out a heavy breath as he pulled a post-it from the edge of his desk and began to scribble on it. He was about to give the post-it to Byungchan but retracted it immediately.

“Two weeks worth of beer tabs,” Suhwan bargained. Byungchan pouted for a while, the gears in his head turning, before he gulped and nodded his head slowly, accepting the deal. Suhwan smiled as he handed Byungchan the post-it with a number of Suhwan’s contact at the police department. 

Byungchan muttered a thank you and ran off to his desk, completely ignoring the comment “Do you know that you’ll make bigger money in the porn industry than in here?” that Suhwan made.

* * *

Midnight. 

A man was walking on the side of an empty street, humming a sweet melody. A lullaby. He was small, with dark brown hair and cat-like eyes. Almost boyish in a way. He took a few light steps before swiftly grabbing the short dagger inside his suit and throwing it to the tree right behind him. 

“I can hear you," he warned. Almost teasing. “Show yourself.”

He turned around to the sight of five burly men with cigarettes in their mouths. They took no time to surround him, but the man was quiet. Watching.

_ Handguns, _ the man thought. _ Handguns and knives. No axes. _

“It’s dangerous for a _ little boy _to stroll alone at night,” said the biggest one.

He scoffed. “It’s pathetic to surround a _ little boy _who’s strolling alone at night.”

The five men looked into each other’s eyes before they put their hands into their suit pockets, about to reach for the handguns that they carried. The small man’s eyes squinted, alert. He went into a fighting stance when suddenly—

“Halt,” a low voice ordered. 

A rather tall man came into view. Slicked back hair and a smile carved on his face. His suit was silk. Expensive. A man with position, for sure. In fact, the small man knew exactly who he was.

“Han Seungwoo,” he greeted calmly.

Seungwoo’s smile widened.

“You know my name,” he stated. It was not a question. The small man smiled.

“Who doesn’t.”

Seungwoo barked a laugh. He signaled the five men to disperse. They followed immediately. _ Must’ve been his men_, the small man thought.

“You know,” Seungwoo began, taking two steps closer. “You’re pretty famous yourself.” He put one finger under the shorter man’s chin, forcing him to look up into his eyes. He smirked, a totally different smile from the calm smile he had been showing earlier. “A man who destroyed an empire overnight. Kim Wooseok.”

* * *

Wooseok stopped in front of his apartment door. The rusty door knob was slightly turned. 

Someone was here before him. 

He grabbed another small dagger on his left suit pocket before opening the door. Inside, he was greeted by— not one— but two men, holding him at gunpoint. One of them was lounging on the sofa, the other man standing behind him. Both wore clean and neat suits, the ties done well. Wooseok raised his hands.

“Have any of you ever heard of knocking?” he asked.

The figure on the couch laughed out loud. His dark black hair was slicked back with just a few strands falling on his forehead. “You’re more interesting than I thought you would be,” he said. His laughter calmed down to a small smirk. Proud. “Do you know who we are?”

“Cho Seungyoun. Current head of the Cho family. The man behind you, Lee Hangyul. Your right hand,” Wooseok answered.

Seungyoun smirked, looking pretty satisfied with that answer.

“What do you need?” Wooseok asked.

He felt a sense of déjà vu, the meeting he had earlier with Seungwoo playing in his head. 

_ “What do you need?" he had asked Seungwoo. _

Seungyoun’s smirk grew wider. Creepy. Almost lunatic.

_ Seungwoo’s smirk had grown wider. Determined. Powerful. _

“I need you to kill—” Seungyoun said.

“_I need you to kill _ —_” Seungwoo had said. _

“Han Seungwoo.”

“_Cho Seungyoun.” _

Wooseok grinned. Like a cheshire cat.

“What do you have for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seungwoo & seungyoun's quantum leap ver. teasers: *exists*
> 
> us: MAFIA AUUUU *AGGRESSIVELY BRAINSTORMS*
> 
> wooseok's teaser: *exists*
> 
> us: WE GOTTA WRITE THIS SHIT TONIGHT AND POST IT TOMORROW
> 
> ______
> 
> so uh there's four of us and we're gonna say hi one by one.
> 
> [citation (WannaDay)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WannaDay/pseuds/citation) aka Hira:  
hi. we got the whole plotline written out. buckle up. it's gonna be a long, bumpy ride :D
> 
> [wtvrai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtvrai/pseuds/wtvrai) aka Di:  
I specialized in angsty slice-of-life. I can't believe I dragged myself willingly into writing this. Wooseok has piercings. That helped. Peace out.
> 
> [meshiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshiin/pseuds/meshiin) aka Meshi:  
its a spur of panic moment which lead us to make a wholeass new universe please forgive us we're in need for content also thank you twitter for f1 contents, we're greatly fed. this is for you.
> 
> [K_Sakura7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Sakura7/pseuds/K_Sakura7) aka Yes ☆:  
Hi! it's been a really LONG time since I wrote and I never wrote anything in this genre (and fandom) so it's very challenging and fun at the same time :D Hope you guys enjoy this spur of the moment 2 am ideas from us :)
> 
> ______
> 
> We’re trying hard to synchronize our writing styles so we’re sorry if the writing is a bit wonky in the first chapters! :”D
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and feel free to scream at us ♥
> 
> ______
> 
> oh and you can find us on twitter uwu:  
[hira](https://twitter.com/myday_blackrose) | [di](https://twitter.com/narangsalja) | [meshi](https://twitter.com/meshiin_) | yes☆ on [twitter](https://twitter.com/annyeong_desu), [tumblr](https://flower-kitty07.tumblr.com/?ref_url=https://flower-kitty07.tumblr.com/post/186369418374/ml-fic-soulmate-survey-part-15/embed)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos, everyone! It really drives us to write faster and better for you all :”)
> 
> Here we have more character appearances! Yay!

The Lee Family and their ties with the mafia were the nation’s biggest open secret. The family itself was known as the oldest mafia group who had been around for many generations. Stories and rumors about them were passed down from one generation to another. In fact, the Lee Family was the reason why this city existed in the first place. They transformed the rundown slums that the city used to be into a populated, nicely decorated city that also served as one of the nation’s economic backbone. 

Adding to the heroic face for the public, the Lee Family had built numerous schools, hospitals, nursing homes, and routinely paid them visits. As if they were not angelic enough, the heads of the Lee Family throughout the generations were all known for their charming and kind persona. Everything combined, they successfully blinded the public from their ongoing underground businesses. 

Lee Dongwook was not an exception. He took the throne of the family at the tender age of 19 and eventually made the Lee Family name even more renowned to the entire nation at 28 years old. He appeared often in charity events, charming everyone with his words and calm gaze. He dealt with illegal gangs and low class thieves. He was, to the public eye, a hero.

So If the public were to be asked about the mafia, they would immediately answer ‘The Lee Family’, ‘Lee Dongwook’, and they would explain how the said family was the one who saved the city— no, they would exaggerate and say that the family saved the _ country. _ That was the Lee Family from the public’s perspective.

From the underground perspectives, the Lee Family was— simply put— an empire. 

Lee Dongwook was the one who brought the Lee Family, an already prominent name in the mafia world, into an untouchable presence. He was a genius who went through countless deals with foreign investors, triads, local dealers, the police, judges, and politicians. By the age of 28, Lee Dongwook was sitting on the throne of an empire that ruled three major businesses of the underground world: weaponry, drugs, and gambling. The Lee Family was far ahead of the other families. They were strong, omnipotent, unwavering. At this point, they were too powerful, too far ahead, too neat with their work to be messed around with. The police had long given up on their investigations. The brave ones— if there were any of them left— were very careful with their steps while doing so. No one could touch the family. They had seemed, _ felt, _immortal. 

The Lee Family was the closest thing to God in the mafia world. 

They weren’t necessarily what you would call ruthless. No, they kept their works clean cut. Part of it was because of their heroic public image. But Lee Dongwook’s charming and kind persona was, after all, a persona. A kind person couldn’t survive, moreover rule the mafia world. He might keep his own hands and his mansion clean from blood, but he tolerated no betrayals and loose ends. Rats and sneaky pests could only wish they weren’t caught by Lee’s eyes, or they would face one of Lee’s countless warehouse’s bloody walls as they waited for their death. Any possible loose ends that might threaten the family was cut before they ever found light. That was how the Lee Family stayed on their throne. Silently looming over everyone else in their way.

The Lee were extremely selective about associates and alliances. Because they could offer more than just money. They could offer power and protection. It was a competition for the many families inside the Lee Family’s alliances to fight for Lee’s good side. They plead loyalty, gave countless offerings, bribed countless members. But there were only two families who had been accepted by the Lee Family to stand closely by their side. Two families who had associated with the Lee since their early days with unwavering loyalty. 

The Han Family and the Cho Family. 

The Han Family was known for their ruthless actions yet strong brotherhood, having a no bullshit policy and bravery to start and brew a war. The Han specialized in arms trafficking, both legal and illegal weaponry. They provided almost every weapon, from .357 magnum revolvers to submachine guns, that every mafia family owned. The Lee provided connections with international weapon manufacturers and arms dealers in exchange for joint ownership of numerous manufacturers, shared profit, and armed supplies. Their relationship with the Lee stemmed from decades of close associates. Lee Dongwook in particular was close with their youngest heir, letting the heir refer to him as ‘Uncle’.

The Han was a lesser known family to the public. They hid their tracks well and operated mostly in the dark. Civilians would hear this family from gossip or word on the streets from time to time, but they were never exposed. 

The Cho, on the other hand, was well-known by the public. The Cho Family was known as the ‘second hero’, following the Lee’s footsteps in providing charity as a facade. They built and supported nursing homes, orphanages, and donated money to local newspapers and small businesses in the city. However, the friendly facade was a safety measure to provide more cover as they roamed the streets in broad daylight. The Cho specialized in drugs distribution, both in the mafia and outside the mafia. From Xanax to Cocaine to drug dens masked as advertising agencies, to production houses. Much like the Han, the Cho offered joint ownership, profit, and private supplies to the Lee, as the Lee helped them by acting as a liaison for bigger networks of foreign dealers and building realtors for camouflage.

The Cho Family was known for having the most cunning heads. However, they had generations of history with the Lee, resulting in a close familial bond, peaking as Lee Dongwook became the godfather of the Cho Family’s heir.

To conclude, the Lee Family was an empire who tied the mafia world. They were the ones who managed to balance out the two massive mafia families who pleaded loyalty to the Lee, but never to each other. The Lee Family was sitting on top of the chain. They were the heart of the nation’s underworld. Strong, massive, immovable, almost immortal.

So, when Lee Dongwook was killed at the age of 57 and the whole Lee Family were found massacred, together with their proud mansion burned down, it was no wonder the mafia world would turn into a _ fucking _ mess. The long standing throne was suddenly empty and an empty throne was the perfect bait for hungry wolves. Almost every family— big or small— emanated a foul, _ foul, _smell of greed to steal the throne that Lee Dongwook once sat on. To taste the power, the privilege. To be untouchable, on top of the world.

However, no greed could beat the silent surge of chaos bubbling under the Han and the Cho Family.

* * *

_On the empty street, with only the moon as witness, a conversation had taken place. It was at the start of a deal. The catalyst. The first clog that started turning, subsequently causing the other gears to move as well, all operating to set into motion an even bigger picture. _

_ “Kill Cho Seungyoun?” Wooseok asked, his voice a faint whisper. If not for their close proximity, Seungwoo might not have heard him. “You want me to kill Cho Seungyoun?” _

_ “Yes,” Seungwoo said, finger still under Wooseok’s chin, not letting the smaller man look at anywhere but him. “Is there a problem?” _

_ The smile had never left Wooseok’s face. “No. Not at all. It’s just...” He then paused, lips curling into an even bigger smile. He purposely trailed off. _

_ Seungwoo wouldn’t let the other man get under his skin. “Just what?” _

_ Wooseok let out a hum. Seungwoo could feel the slight vibrations underneath his fingertip. _

_ But he finally got an answer. _

_ “Are you sure that’s all you want?” _

_ It was an unexpected one. _

_ Seungwoo cocked an eyebrow, just slightly. “What do you mean?” _

_ Eyes shining with glee, Wooseok’s hand shot out, grabbing the collar of Seungwoo’s shirt. Before Seungwoo could react, he was tugged down roughly to match the other man’s height. _

_ Wooseok was a lot stronger than he looked. Or maybe Seungwoo was just caught by surprise. In that case, Wooseok was a lot slyer than he looked. _

_ But there they were, with Wooseok’s lips right next to Seungwoo’s ear, breath ghosting over it. _

_ “Han Seungwoo,” the shorter man said, in a seemingly innocent tone. But it wasn’t innocent. It was coaxing and even taunting in a way. “What if I told you that I could do more than that?” _

_ Seungwoo tried to ignore the slight shiver that ran down his spine. “I’m listening.” _

_ It was as if a sweet yet acidic venom was dripping from Wooseok’s voice. _

_ “What if... What if I told you that I could destroy Cho Seungyoun’s entire family as well?” _

_ A heartbeat passed. Seungwoo kept his composure. “Keep going.” _

_ “All that the Cho Family had built throughout the years... All of the power, wealth, everything. I’ll tear it all down. I’ll make it all burn down. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” _

_ Seungwoo almost wanted to pull back. He wanted to see Wooseok’s face when he said all that. Wanted to see the sincerity and the genuine look in his eyes. But Wooseok had already snaked his other hand behind Seungwoo’s neck, pressing the palm into it, keeping him in place. _

_ “Yes,” Seungwoo finally answered. “I would like that.” _

_ He could hear the smile in Wooseok’s tone. _

_ “Good boy. But I’ll need time.” _

_ “How long?” _

_ “As long as I’ll need,” Wooseok replied simply. “Plotting out a family’s demise isn’t a quick process. You understand, right?” _

_ “I do.” _

_ “Then that settles it.” Wooseok then released him and took a step back. The other man could now see him, all smiles and bright eyes full of glee. “The Cho Family will crash and burn, just like Lee Dongwook’s entire empire.” He then gave a small wave. “We’ll be seeing each other a lot after this, Han Seungwoo.” _

_ Seungwoo did not appreciate how the other man spoke to him and treated him— as if he was lesser than he was. It made his blood run hot through his veins. _

_ But he could not deny what Wooseok had accomplished before. If Wooseok could take down Lee Dongwook and his family— the biggest empire— then taking down the Cho family would be an easier feat. _

_ “I believe we will,” Seungwoo finally said, pulling on his own smile and giving his own little wave. “Till we meet again. Kim Wooseok.” _

_ The night continued. Seungwoo watched as the other man walked away, a slight skip in his steps, and disappeared around the corner and out of sight. He knew that big things were going to happen. He knew that the city would not rest easy after all this. _

_ What Han Seungwoo didn’t know was how— hours later— Wooseok would give the same offer to Cho Seungyoun. But instead, Seungwoo’s name and his family were the ones being offered to the flame. _

_ Wooseok would be smiling just as sweetly as he gave the offer. He would still be standing near the door, still being held at gunpoint by the other two men. Lee Hangyul would tighten the grip on his pistol pointing straight at Wooseok, as if feeling the weight of the words being uttered. There was distrust in the right-hand man’s sharp eyes. _

_ And Cho Seungyoun would lean back in that chair, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. He would take a while, as if to think. _

_ Then he would nod, sealing the deal. _

_ And Wooseok’s smile would grow even wider. _

_ The night would then continue to pass by. Dawn would greet the city, yet again. _

* * *

"An orphanage," Choi Byungchan spoke up as he stared at the building in front of him. It had pastel-colored walls with numerous drawings on it, the ones that children liked, a playground set and lots of scattered toys on the front lawn. It was still early in the morning, yet Byungchan could already faintly hear the noises of children from inside the building.

_ "Why do you sound so surprised?” _ the voice on the other line of the phone asked Byungchan, snapping him out from his thoughts. _ “I just searched the coordinates you gave me.” _

"No, I mean— why an orphanage?" Byungchan spoke out again, this time he wasn't sure if he was asking the person on the other side of the line or himself. 

He had officially started the investigation on the Cho Family today and the first place he ended up visiting was an orphanage, following the instruction from the guy he met at the bar several days ago. The man gave him map coordinates and Byungchan immediately sent it to one of his trusted juniors from university who was great at dealing with computers and technology, Kim Hyunbin.

_"Aren't you good with children?" _ the person, Hyunbin, asked back and Byungchan sighed. He wanted to say that whether he was good with children or not was not the reason for his confusion. But he didn’t want to trouble Hyunbin further.

"Thanks, Hyunbin. Sorry if I bothered you during class time," Byungchan said meekly. 

_"Nah, it's fine. Your task was more challenging than my classes_," Hyunbin replied. Byungchan could hear the younger man's smile in his voice. _ "I'll be waiting for your next treat!" _

Byungchan smiled in defeat as the phone’s connection was cut. He put his phone back into his jacket's pocket. The tall man then pushed the building’s fence and entered the orphanage. The place somehow radiated a familiar aura to him as Byungchan observed every nook and cranny of the orphanage’s front lawn. The journalist went up the small steps and finally knocked on the front door.

A woman opened the door and greeted Byungchan with a warm smile. "Hi! How can I help you?"

Byungchan returned the smile. "I'm Choi Byungchan, journalist from The Daily City News." He handed the woman his card with the company logo on it before continuing. "I'm currently writing about city orphanages. Do you mind if I ask the person in charge of this orphanage some questions?"

* * *

Sunlight slipped through the cracks of the window’s curtains, streaming into the large bedroom with its decorated walls and antique furniture. An unoccupied large, elegant sofa was placed at one side of the room, framed paintings of abstract figures on the wall behind it. There was an assortment of ornaments placed on the wide, wooden table and desk right next to the bed. Among those ornaments were little vases and even a small, golden statue of a tiger. Everything in the room was placed neatly in a well-orderly fashion. It would have been the perfect, tidy picture— if not for the clothes scattered all over the carpeted floor.

There was the faint sound of birds chirping outside, signalling that morning had come already.

Two men lay sprawled on the bed in a tangle of limbs. They were both fast asleep until the sunlight had streamed in, causing one of them to shift a little and eventually open his eyes.

Lee Hangyul was usually the one who woke up first. He let out a low groan and rolled a little to lay on his back, the other man’s arm limp over his bare chest.

For a while Hangyul stared at the decorated ceiling. It had become a habit for him every time he woke up here— to just examine the little carvings in the ceiling. They were carvings of sophisticated patterns that gave off an oddly calming feeling.

Hangyul gave himself a few extra seconds before he drew in a deep breath and slowly sat up. The arm that had been wrapped around his chest slid off as he did so.

He then turned to the sleeping figure. Voice slightly hoarse from having just woken up, Hangyul called his name.

“Seungyoun. Wake up. Time to work.”

Cho Seungyoun didn’t give an immediate reaction. Hangyul was used to that. He leaned in, shaking the older man’s shoulders.

“Seungyoun, come on.”

That did it. Without a word, Seungyoun grabbed one end of the blanket and pulled it over his head.

“Your schedule’s full today,” Hangyul reminded him, patiently. “You need to get ready.”

Seungyoun’s voice came muffled from behind the blanket. “Five more... minutes...”

The younger of the two held back the urge to roll his eyes. The _ great _Cho Seungyoun that many people both adored and feared seemed like such an intimidating figure. But here, at this moment, he was quite the opposite.

Hangyul grabbed the blanket with both hands and pulled it off. Seungyoun let out a hiss as the cold air hit his bare skin, all the way from head to toe.

“Alright, Hangyul. Damn. I’m getting up.”

Hangyul smirked. “You better.” And with that he went to sit at one end of the bed, grabbing his silver wristwatch from the desk right next to them.

He was wrapping the watch around his wrist when he felt a soft touch on his back. On his right shoulder blade.

“The scar hasn’t faded away yet,” Seungyoun said, voice quiet.

“Well,” Hangyul said, focusing on his watch again. “Scars from a bullet wound don’t really go away that easily.”

“Maybe if I were a little more careful on that day, you wouldn’t have this scar.”

“We were being gunned down by the enemy, Seungyoun. Getting shot isn’t a small possibility.”

Even as they spoke, Hangyul could remember it all happening. It had happened quite a long time ago, so the memory had become hazy in his mind. But he did remember feeling the terror rise in his throat as he saw Seungyoun in danger. It wasn’t a rare sight, really. Being in danger was a common occurrence in their occupation. But that day had been worse, more risky, and Seungyoun was weaponless as his pistol had been knocked out of his hand. Hangyul was there to protect him, like always. And he remembered the sharp pain when an enemy bullet lodged itself deep into his skin.

They made it out alive that day and the bullet was surgically removed. But it still left a noticeable scar that he didn’t mind that much. The pain had faded away a long time ago too.

With his finger, Seungyoun was tracing a trail on Hangyul’s back— outlining a familiar shape. Hangyul knew what it was.

“Sorry that the scar ruined your tattoo,” Seungyoun then said. “Your other tattoo’s safe. But this one...”

Hangyul couldn’t help it. He let out a slight laugh. “Seriously, Seungyoun?”

“Your tattoos are nice, okay.”

“Are you just trying to make me compliment yours too?”

“I’m just _ saying, _” Seungyoun mumbled under his breath, “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

“Well. With all that’s going on now, we _ all _need to be a hell lot more careful.”

There was a silence. Hangyul knew that Seungyoun was thinking hard. There was a lot to mull over, after all.

He decided to be the one to prod first. “Did you think more about what Kim Wooseok said yesterday?”

Seungyoun let out an exaggerated hum. “Well, he sounded as dangerous as the rumors say. He spoke of insane things. But then again, what he did before is already more than insane.”

Hangyul glanced over his shoulder, seeing Seungyoun lost in thought. “Do you think we can trust him?”

“In this world,” Seungyoun said, his voice serious yet still light, “trust doesn’t come easily. It’s a faint, fragile concept.”

“Right.”

Hangyul had glanced at his watch, checking the time. He gave it a small tap before climbing to his feet. “Let’s hope everything goes well then. Or as well as things could possibly go.”

He could tell that Seungyoun was staring at him as he grabbed his clothes from the floor and began getting dressed. He tried to flatten out the wrinkles from his shirt and pants, knowing that his effort would be futile. They had been thrown rather unceremoniously the night before.

Hangyul was wrapping his belt around his waist when Seungyoun spoke again.

“It feels like the calm before the storm.”

“Hm?”

“I mean, everything’s messed up already. People are already prepared to slit throats. They all want Dongwook’s place. But I feel that bigger things are going to happen.”

Hangyul straightened out the sleeves of his suit as he asked, “You feel it or you know it?”

A slight pause. “I know it.”

“Well.” Hangyul took one glance at a nearby mirror as he slipped on the suit, afterwards quickly working on the buttons. “Then we have to be extra _ extra _ careful, won’t we?”

He then turned to Seungyoun. The older man still looked lost in thought, still sprawled on the bed, not making any indication of getting dressed himself.

Seungyoun then blinked, pulling himself back to the world again. “Hangyul, your hair’s still a mess.”

“And whose fault is it? Whose hands were running through my hair like crazy last night?”

A knowing smirk on his lips, Seungyoun just gave a little wave. “I’ll be ready to work soon. I promise.”

“I’ll see you soon then.”

Hangyul then left Seungyoun’s bedroom, giving a half-assed attempt at combing down his ash-gray hair with just his fingers.

He was greeted by the sight of a familiar hallway, brighter with the larger windows lining the walls.

Hangyul closed the door behind him and stopped in his tracks when he saw a man, around his age, with neatly combed black hair and wearing a proper, tidy suit with a dark shirt underneath. The man paused his steps when he noticed Hangyul walking out from the room. Hangyul gave the man a slight nod. 

They were walking down the hall together in silence when suddenly the black-haired man let out a scoff, to which Hangyul raised his eyebrow at the sudden action. However, Hangyul could only let out a small smile and turned his attention to the man beside him.

“Do you have something you want to say to me, Kim Yohan?” Hangyul asked. It was hinted with a playful tone. 

“Yeah. I do,” Yohan declared. 

Yohan stopped walking and looked at Hangyul beside him. “Remind me to ask your boss to cover his walls with soundproof carpet or something next time,” he suggested, glaring at Hangyul. “Y’all are fucking loud." 

This time, Hangyul was the one who let out an annoyed snort. "Well, he's your fucking boss too." 

"Oh yeah, he's my boss alright. But he is _your_ _fucking_ boss. Literally," Yohan retorted back, emphasizing on the words ‘your’ and ‘fucking’ in quite an exaggerating manner. 

Hangyul laughed as he kicked Yohan's leg, to which the latter could only chuckle as the two men made their way down the Cho Family mansion's hallway.

Although he knew of Hangyul's wrath if he were to arrive late, Seungyoun allowed himself to doze off for a bit. He woke up a few minutes later when the birds began to chirp louder.

Seungyoun ruffled his hair as he stood up to get dressed. Afterwards standing in front of the full-body mirror, he stared at his own reflection and sighed.

"I know it... huh," Seungyoun muttered quietly, recalling his early conversation with Hangyul. “We’ll see.”

He had barely managed to put on any clothing— a pair of boxers and his inner white shirt, when he heard a rustle from behind. Out of reflex, Seungyoun quickly grabbed his gun from the top of his drawer and pointed it to one corner of the room, shadowed by the curtains. Someone was sitting on his sofa, observing him from inside the shadows.

"You are a sick pervert," Seungyoun commented as the tall figure clad in all black stood from his sitting position on the sofa.

The figure had both of his hands raised in defeat. Seungyoun clicked his tongue when he saw a huge smile on the figure’s face, greatly annoyed.

“Lee Jinhyuk,” he called warningly.

"I should say that to you, Cho Seungyoun. Pretty sure I didn't come here to see your bare ass," the figure, Lee Jinhyuk, retorted back. 

Seungyoun laughed sarcastically as he put down his gun. After slipping into his pants, the Cho Family heir began putting on his suit— black, with small white details on each sleeve. He placed his gun on the inside of his suit pocket and turned his attention towards the man.

"Maybe if you tried using the front door,” Seungyoun commented, walking past Jinhyuk who chuckled quietly. Seungyoun exited the room, Jinhyuk following closely behind until he caught up. They made their way down the mansion hallway side by side.

"So,” Jinhyuk started. “What service does the _ great _ Cho Seungyoun want me to do?" he then asked in an arrogant manner.

“Kim Wooseok,” Seungyoun said curtly, stopping in his tracks to face the tall man beside him. “Did he really massacre the Lee Family?” 

Jinhyuk grinned. Seungyoun had a feeling he had expected this question.

_ Annoying fucker. _

“Well, I heard words. From the streets, bars, VIP guests and pickpockets. You know how stupid mafia talk. Loud, like they want the whole world to know.”

Seungyoun paused. A sharp gaze accompanied the silent warning he gave to Jinhyuk. His patience was running thin.

“Get to the point,” he warned.

Jinhyuk whistled at the threatening tone.

“Lee Jinhyuk, The Informant,” Seungyoun said, his facial features hardening. Judging. “Did he really kill the Lee Family?”

Jinhyuk’s grin turned into a little smirk. He continued walking down the hall, letting Seungyoun follow him closely. 

“Little birdies told me that he did. Some said he controlled men, lots of them. Though we both know it’s unlikely. He doesn’t have a family,” Jinhyuk started. “Some said he did it alone.”

“Alone?” Seungyoun asked. Jinhyuk turned around to face the Cho heir. His face turned a tad bit serious.

“Single-handedly.” 

Years of working as an informant trained Jinhyuk to read people. Behaviors, faces. Seungyoun’s face screamed disbelief. Jinhyuk huffed.

“Take it how you want to.” Jinhyuk shrugged. “With a grain of salt, maybe. But you know who’s louder than the mafia.”

“Cut to the chase,” Seungyoun barked.

“The police,” Jinhyuk said. “They supported the notion.” 

Seungyoun leaned against the hallway’s wall, lighting a cigarette. “So you’re saying this pretty boy single-handedly ended an empire who ruled generations upon generations?”

_ “If _ he did,” Jinhyuk began. He took a few steps towards Seungyoun, face turning completely serious. If Seungyoun had not known Jinhyuk from years ago, he probably would’ve been shocked. Jinhyuk was a lot of things. A snitch, an actor, an informant, a _ rat. _The Jinhyuk standing in front of him with both hands in his pockets was _informant Lee Jinhyuk._ A sly, underground informant for the mafia.

“If he did, Cho. Then he might be the most dangerous man walking on earth right now.” 

Then suddenly, the teasing grin on Jinhyuk’s face came back.

“He might even beat your _ beloved _ Lee Hangyul. Hundreds of him.”

Seungyoun frowned and rolled his eyes at Jinhyuk’s comment. He really, _ really,_ couldn’t stand this guy. “He can’t. There’s a reason why Hangyul is both my right-hand man and my trusted bodyguard.”

“Has he ever massacred an entire family and burned down their proud mansion?” Jinhyuk retorted back, silencing Seungyoun. 

Seungyoun took a drag off of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Jinhyuk’s direction. Jinhyuk took a cigarette himself, biting it but never setting it to light.

“Wooseok is a stray cat. No family, no strings. Do you get what that implies?” Jinhyuk asked.

Seungyoun stayed quiet, hundreds of things swimming in his mind.

_“Any _family who can put their hands on him will get into the highway to rule this shitshow,” Jinhyuk continued, forcing Seungyoun’s attention to go back to the man in front of him. “Including you. I know you want to burn Han to the ground. That is, if that stuck up Han doesn’t get his hands on Kim Wooseok first.”

Jinhyuk noticed that someone was approaching and turned to see Hangyul at the end of the hallway. The Cho’s right-hand man immediately drew his gun when his eyes spotted Jinhyuk. 

The black-haired man turned to Seungyoun again. “Kim Wooseok is a prize,” he said. “The grand prize is the throne. Try to think about it that way.” 

“Hangyul!” Seungyoun called out, right before Hangyul could pull the trigger.

Hangyul lowered his gun and walked closer to the two figures. Jinhyuk waved at Hangyul nonchalantly, but the Cho Family heir’s bodyguard was still visibly alert, his hands holding onto the gun. 

“Escort Jinhyuk to the front door, will you?” Seungyoun asked Hangyul as the bodyguard returned his gun to its holster. Hangyul frowned in slight disgust at the sight of Jinhyuk’s wide ass grin. Seungyoun dismissed it and added, “Try not to kill him too. I still need him.”

* * *

Choi Byungchan waved his hand at the children who had surrounded him earlier. They enthusiastically waved back, all with large smiles and laughter on their faces. He sighed once the children were all out of sight and made his way to a nearby park. Underneath a large oak tree, Byungchan sat at one of the benches.

He overlooked the park that had a small lake in the middle of it. City Central Park was everyone's favorite park in the city. It had a small lake filled with ducks and swans swimming in it, several trees scattered around, and a large meadow that was usually filled with people spending their leisure time.

Byungchan looked around, seeing people spending their afternoon at the park. Children were playing with their ball, some teenagers were talking together in gleeful tones, parents accompanied their toddlers looking at ducks and swans, some elderly people were sitting alone while glancing at the scenery in front of them. It wasn't as busy as a fine day in the weekend would do, but many people still gathered. The weather was breezy and sunny. The perfect weather to have activities outside.

Byungchan let out a deep sigh as he went through his bag and pulled out some of his files. He took out a pen from his jacket pocket and began scribbling some quick notes on the file before staring into the distance. 

“I didn’t get anything from the orphanage...” Byungchan muttered quietly, tapping the end of his pen at the files on his lap. 

He had visited an orphanage that the man from the bar had said was at the receiving end of Cho Family’s money. Cho Seungyoun himself routinely visited that place from time to time. He did manage to interview some caretakers and social workers about the orphanage itself, disguising his investigation on the Cho Family’s alleged ties to the mafia with questions relating to orphanages. Byungchan even talked with some of the children and their responses were all the same.

According to all the caretakers and social workers, Seungyoun played with the children a lot and the children loved him for it. Cho Seungyoun was really adored by both adults and children at the orphanage. 

To conclude, Byungchan didn’t have anything dirty on the Cho Family based on his visit to the orphanage earlier. 

“I should’ve predicted this outcome, but still...” Byungchan muttered as he let out another tired sigh. 

Of course people wouldn’t be that easy to sell off the person that had supported them all this time when the government didn’t lend them a hand or money. He didn’t regret spending his time at the orphanage though. Byungchan had fun playing with the children and the children loved him too. 

But still, it would have been nice to get any information about the Cho Family and their ties with the mafia during that visit.

Byungchan was about to reach out for another item in his bag when a cough was heard. He immediately turned his attention to the sound’s origin.

Behind him was a tall man holding a blazer jacket in one hand, his other hand in his pocket. He was looking at Byungchan.

“Are you Choi Byungchan?”

After Byungchan nodded quietly, the man approached and gave him a small smile.

“I’m detective Song Yuvin, Suhwan’s police contact,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand to Byungchan.

Byungchan immediately accepted and shook his hand. “Choi Byungchan, reporter from The Daily City News. We talked on the phone. Thank you for meeting me.”

Yuvin smiled. He took a seat beside Byungchan, glancing at the park scenery as he sat. “I took criminology journalism class so I know how important police connection is. I’ll be glad to help you.”

Byungchan wanted to thank God (if there is one, he immediately thought) for sending him such a reliable detective as his police connection. He worked with the police once and the said police was a complete-180 degrees from this Song Yuvin. 

“What do you want to know?” Yuvin asked finally. 

Byungchan hesitated. “I’m currently working on an article about the mafia, the ones residing in this city in particular. I was wondering if I could have a copy of some of your mafia-related cases.”

Yuvin’s smile began to fade. “All of the police records are accessible for the public in the City Library.”

“Right.”

“You do know that we can’t disclose the ones that we are currently still investigating,” the detective continued. His tone was calm yet Byungchan could sense a warning in it. 

Byungchan mentally grimaced. _Ah, of course it wouldn’t be that easy... _

“Of course, I’m not asking for the ongoing ones. I’m asking for the old ones, possibly during the last two or three years? Something you haven’t disclosed to the public yet,” Byungchan answered calmly. “I’ve read all of the mafia related police records in the City Library and found out that the police haven’t updated their records in the Library for almost four years. So... I came to ask you about that.”

Yuvin stared for a few seconds at the man in front of him. Byungchan could sense his silent judgement.

“Is there any particular information that you’re interested in?” Yuvin asked, his attention fully directed at Byungchan. 

“There’s one family that I’m interested in,” the latter replied, trying to make it as discreet as possible. He wouldn’t just blurt out that he was investigating the Cho Family, not in an open area like this. Byungchan didn’t want a bullet lodged in his body— not yet. 

But he had to do this.

Yuvin observed Byungchan in an unreadable manner before scoffing, “Suhwan was right, you’re a pretty reckless journalist.”

Byungchan gave a sour smile. Well, Suhwan wasn’t wrong but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt him a little bit.

Suddenly Yuvin pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, took Byungchan’s pen, and began to write something on it. “My supervisor said sometimes you gotta be a little reckless.” With those words, he handed the paper to Byungchan.

The journalist took the paper gratefully, eyes scanning over it.

“There aren’t many cases that I can disclose,” Yuvin explained, “but try to come to the precinct tomorrow around 2 PM and give this paper to the archive guy. I’ll try to have some of the files ready for you.” Byungchan’s face immediately lit up.

“Th-Thank you!!” the journalist unconsciously stuttered while smiling widely, showing off the dimples on both of his cheeks. Yuvin laughed and gave two small pats on Byungchan’s back. 

Byungchan mentally started preparing tomorrow’s schedule. He would visit a retirement home and try to gather information there, then head to the City Library to study more of the police reports and then—

“Be careful, Choi Byungchan.” Yuvin’s sudden interruption stopped Byungchan’s train of thoughts. The journalist turned his attention towards Yuvin who was looking at him.

“You do know why people avoid writing about the mafia, right?”

Byungchan stayed still. 

Oh, right. People usually _ do _avoid writing articles about the mafia. 

He used to hear stories about how the journalists who wrote mafia stories (some were even from his company) suddenly went missing without a trace for months or even years. If they were lucky— _or unlucky_— however, the police would find them dead, much much later.

Some were straight up murdered in cold blood. 

“Try to stay out of trouble,” Yuvin warned. “Especially trouble with the mafia.” 

Byungchan didn’t say anything, even after he heard the young detective’s warning. The journalist’s fingers unconsciously gripped the files he had in his hand since earlier. 

His heart began to beat fast. And faster. Whether from excitement or fear, or a mixture of both, he wasn't sure. Byungchan’s lips suddenly had the urge to form a wide smile but he held it back. Instead, Byungchan looked at Yuvin and nodded slightly at the detective’s warning.

“Of course,” Byungchan answered. “You don’t— You should never, _ ever, _ mess with the mafia.”

* * *

It was late afternoon when a car stopped by at the mansion driveway. Han Seungwoo disembarked from the car and patted his long coat. 

The long coat he wore flowed elegantly as he walked, his face held up straight, unleashing the intimidating arrogant aura with every step that he took. Every person he passed by as he made his way to the tall, large, proud Han Family's mansion gave him a quick bow. Others greeted him respectfully with a big bow. 

The moment Seungwoo entered the mansion, he was greeted by his most trusted advisor, Kang Seungsik. 

“Welcome back,” Seungsik greeted as Seungwoo walked past him. “I heard you gave the pilot a whole month off?” 

“His wife is on her deathbed. Family is more important,” Seungwoo replied shortly. 

Seungsik’s lips carved into a small smile. Everyone in the mafia world might say that the man before him was a ruthless monster but Seungsik and the whole Han Family knew that Han Seungwoo cherished his family and brotherhood more than anything. 

Brotherhood and the importance of _ famiglia _was, after all, the Han Family’s value ever since their early days.

“I can be your pilot if you need one,” another man chirped from behind. A man slightly younger than the pair, his appearance messy and disorganized, a contrast from Seungsik’s clean and neat appearance.

Im Sejun, the current head bodyguard of the Han Family. His main duty was to protect Seungwoo, and _ only _ Seungwoo, closely. He had been walking behind the two men since Seungwoo got out from his car. 

Hearing Sejun’s remark, Seungwoo snorted quietly and a slight smirk appeared on his face. “Sure, I’ll ask you if I want my jet plane to plunge us to our sad, inevitable deaths.”

Sejun frowned at Seungwoo’s reply while Seungsik laughed.

The trio went quiet again. Seungsik and Sejun following closely behind Seungwoo as the latter walked through the long hallway in the Han Family mansion.

“Oh right, Seungwoo. You have a scheduled meeting with _ him _today,” informed Seungsik, opening another topic for discussion.

Seungwoo, still walking ahead, began to loosen his tie. “What time?”

“Half an hour from now.” 

The three men arrived at Seungwoo’s study. The head of the Han Family opened the door and froze.

Surprisingly, someone was already inside the room. A tall man was lounging on one of the sofas. His eyes were fixated on the game console in his hands. When he noticed that three men had entered the room, the tall man waved and greeted them, a sly grin adorning his face.

“What’s up?”

He began to straighten his posture after saving his game, stretching his body in a relaxed manner.

“You should buy a bigger sofa. This one is too small for me,” he said, all the while completely ignoring two guns that had been pointing at him by the two men behind Seungwoo. 

“Lee Jinhyuk,” addressed Seungwoo calmly, as if he wasn't surprised at all by the uninvited guest in his study room. “You came a little bit too early.”

Jinhyuk gave the heir of the Han Family a graceful bow. “The one and only. I would rather be early than late for my client.”

Seungwoo signaled Seungsik and Sejun to lower their weapons. He walked towards his study chair and sat on his rotating seat, directing it to face Jinhyuk who took a seat right in front of the don. Seungwoo gave a slight nod to Seungsik and Sejun, a signal for them to leave him and his guest alone in the room. The two men, understanding the signal, immediately left and stood on guard outside the door. 

“Kim Wooseok,” Seungwoo started as he leaned closer to Jinhyuk. The informant was sitting leisurely on his chair, no sense of urgency apparent on his posture. “Do you know him?”

Jinhyuk gave a low chuckle. A smirk appeared on his face. “I know everyone and their mothers.”

“Then I need every bit of information you have on him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> us: *uses google docs to write the chapters together*
> 
> no one:
> 
> absolutely no one:
> 
> hira: our years of psychology group assignments and working on gdocs has brought us to this MOMENT
> 
> hira: we have trained for this MOMENT
> 
> we would like to thank googledocs and 4 years of group assignments from our university department (that required 24/7 use of gdocs thus honing our teamwork and gdocs skills aslfjlaskjfa) for making this fic possible. 
> 
> ___
> 
> GUESS WHAT everyone, we also made a song playlist for this story! :)  
you can listen to it on [spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/06wvfVuHe1TYTl1PZZ3Ec2?si=6P3kURpSRj6Sq0Lkz1Xz7w)and [youtube!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvf3aIbal9dcjJxWtyUbtSjvdG0wbDOn5)
> 
> ___
> 
> our twitters uwu:  
[hira](https://twitter.com/myday_blackrose) | [di](https://twitter.com/narangsalja) | [meshi](https://twitter.com/meshiin_) | yes☆ on [twitter](https://twitter.com/annyeong_desu), [tumblr](https://flower-kitty07.tumblr.com/?ref_url=https://flower-kitty07.tumblr.com/post/186369418374/ml-fic-soulmate-survey-part-15/embed)
> 
> ___
> 
> see you in the next chapter! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while. But here’s a 10.5k words chapter for you guys! :)
> 
> Note: throughout the whole story, there will be some similar surnames (such as Nam, Kwon, etc), but these are _not_ referring to any of the PDX boys unless their full name is mentioned!

“Then I need everything you have on him,” Seungwoo declared sternly as he glared at the man in front of him.

“He’s a bit more secretive than you would like,” Jinhyuk said with a sly grin plastered on his face. 

Seungwoo lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the best informant in this _ country? _ Or should I change my service?”

“I’m an informant, not a magician.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

Jinhyuk snorted. He leaned back in his chair leisurely, eyes never leaving the Han Family’s heir. “You know where he lives. Your handy assistant memorized the address. He lives alone,” the informant started. “He has no family. Figuratively and literally. Word on the street says that he’s an orphan. No one knows where he was brought up, though.”

It was silent for a while. Seungwoo was waiting for Jinhyuk to continue and the latter twirled a pen he had found on Seungwoo’s desk. After a few seconds passed, Seungwoo realized that Jinhyuk had no intention to continue.

“And?” Seungwoo urged.

“And what?”

“That’s _ all _you have on him?”

“Well, people think he’s attractive _ and _single, if the birdies are right,” teased Jinhyuk.

Seungwoo gave an unimpressed gaze as he tapped his fingers on the table. It wasn’t a wrong answer— Kim Wooseok _ was _attractive. Lean body with cat-like features on his face. Doe eyes, full eyelashes, sharp jawline, and thin lips. But Seungwoo needed a weapon, not a flower to take care of. Jinhyuk noticed Seungwoo’s silent glare and lifted both hands in pretend shock.

“What?! I’m telling you all I have on him.” 

“Jinhyuk,” Seungwoo warned grimly.

“Okay, _ geez._ Have a bit of fun, won’t you?” Jinhyuk sighed. He put the pen back on the desk and opted to play with the pile of papers on it, pretending to read through them. Nothing was of importance, of course. In this line of work, you don’t leave important documents out in the open if you wanted to stay alive. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Lee Dongwook.”

Jinhyuk felt a sense of _ déjà vu, _the conversation with Cho Seungyoun still fresh in his mind. 

“The loudest narrative is that Kim Wooseok single-handedly ended your beloved uncle,” he answered. Almost identical to the piece of information he gave to the Cho. 

Seungwoo didn’t give any response aside from resting his head on one hand in silence. Jinhyuk kept going through the pile of papers without a word. He could see the gears in Seungwoo’s head turning, probably mulling over the implications that the information entailed. Cho was a quick-witted man, but Han was smart.

_ A man, with no family, who single-handedly brought down an empire. _

Seungwoo broke the silence. “Why?”

Jinhyuk shrugged. “I’m not a mind reader, either.” 

Seungwoo clicked his tongue in disgust. “You’re not getting paid for this one.”

“That’s a breach of contract,” Jinhyuk said calmly. He made a finger gun and aimed it at Seungwoo’s face, mouthing a silent _ boom._ “I can plant a bullet in your eyeball.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Seungwoo replied without a flinch.

Jinhyuk laughed. He stood up from the chair and stretched his body. “Alright. This isn’t about Kim Wooseok but I have something that may interest you a little bit more and make you _ want _to pay me.”

Seungwoo raised an eyebrow, encouraging Jinhyuk to go on.

“Ahn is a rat,” Jinhyuk said, putting both hands in his pockets.

Seungwoo stiffened at the name. It didn’t go unnoticed by Jinhyuk, but he didn’t pursue it further. “Which Ahn?” 

“Ahn Dogyu.”

Jinhyuk slid a few photographs on the desk. They were mostly candid pictures of a guy in his forties. He had a flashy expensive watch on his wrist in most pictures— clearly someone who enjoyed showcasing his wealth.

“He’ll barf Cho’s dirt for some overpriced Cognac,” Jinhyuk continued. “Meaning, you can use him for your plan. He has men. Handles a few dens in the South. Let him sniff your money and he’d happily let them fuck up Cho’s profit, smuggle some stocks.”

Seungwoo smirked. From his desk, he pulled out a brown envelope and put the photographs inside. “Good to hear,” he said, writing a small _ A _ on the corner of the envelope. “Give the details to Seungsik. We’ll handle it from there.”

“I can’t believe I’ll witness the day a Han would deal with drugs.” Jinhyuk smiled, amused. “Thought you all hated dealing with drug dealers.” 

“They’re more... unpredictable.” Seungwoo took an old fashioned cigar from his desk and put it in his mouth, lighting it with an antique lighter in the shape of a knight chess piece. “To be fair, they use their own goods. Arms dealers don’t put their guns to their heads.”

Jinhyuk laughed. “So my pay is secured?” he asked, sitting on the sofa’s arm he had lied down on earlier. 

“Not yet.” Seungwoo exhaled. Jinhyuk made a huge gesture of fanning the smoke away from his direction as Seungwoo rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright, your highness. What other information can I humbly provide for your assistance?” Jinhyuk asked, bowing politely in mockery.

It was probably Seungwoo’s third time of twisting his face in disgust over the informant’s actions. “How are you still alive, again?”

“Why?” Jinhyuk looked up and his eyes met the young don. 

Seungwoo shrugged. He tapped his suit, indicating the gun he put safely in his pocket. “Had a feeling one or two people would have loved to blast your brain out.”

Jinhyuk widened his eyes and barked a laugh, loud, like thunder. “No objections.”

Seungwoo stood up from his chair to search for something in his bookcase. He opened a locked shelf and reached for a file of papers. A photograph was attached to the front. A picture of a huge, luxurious renaissance-esque building— almost like a fort with two identical towers on each side, contrastly decorated with modern lights and bustling people on the red carpet leading to the glass door entrance.

“The Twin Citadel,” Seungwoo declared as he threw the file to the desk.

“Ah, that one,” Jinhyuk acknowledged. 

The Twin Citadel, the Lee’s proudest casino. Located in the heart of the city, it attracted tourists and locals alike, with important VVIP guests frequently visiting. It was a tourist attraction, a place for entertainment, a business place, and everything in between. It had been providing Lee with the biggest profit out of the other casinos spread throughout the country for years. It probably brought even more profit than some of his casinos overseas. The casino was _ legal,_ in a way. What businesses happened inside the casino and where the profit went though, however, was probably a different matter.

Lee Dongwook was, of course, the owner and biggest shareholder. Some other big family names took part in this casino business. Han and Cho were no exceptions.

“Kwak is still reporting to both me and Cho about the profit through papers,” Seungwoo started, pointing at the papers inside the file. Jinhyuk nodded, acknowledging the name: Kwak Dowon, the CEO of the Twin Citadel. “But since the Lee’s suddenly gone...”

“They’re like a chicken with no head,” Jinhyuk remarked.

Seungwoo nodded. “Exactly.” 

“What do you need to know?”

Seungwoo crushed the cigar he had been smoking in an ashtray. He put both hands on the table and eyed Jinhyuk. “Eyes on Kwak. We don’t need him causing problems for the money we circulate.”

There was a short silence as Seungwoo let the order sink in.

“And info on the possibility of an acquisition attempt from both Cho and other shareholders,” he then continued. Seungwoo paused for a second, opening the file and throwing a picture of a young man in a black suit to Jinhyuk. ”Park, to be exact.”

Jinhyuk caught the photograph and hummed. Park Yuri, the oldest son of the Park Family. A family with name and reputation, despite not reaching the level of recognition the Han and the Cho had. 

“Consider Park done,” Jinhyuk said as he put the picture in his pocket. “But Cho? That would be a bold move from him. Isn’t that a direct challenge for our mighty Mr. Han?”

“Wouldn’t put him past that. That bastard’s a prick,” Seungwoo answered curtly as he sat down again on his chair, leaning back. His eyes never left Jinhyuk who was still sitting on the arm of his couch, waiting for whatever response the informant might give.

“Alright. If you say so.” Jinhyuk shrugged. “Do you have any drinks?”

“I have wine.” Seungwoo motioned his head to a shelf in the corner of the room. A couple of expensive wine bottles were placed there, along with their glasses. Jinhyuk followed the motion and immediately scrunched his nose in disgust.

“You’re gonna die faster if you drink that everyday,” he said. Seungwoo rolled his eyes. “Not that I care. Don’t you have tea?” 

“This is not a coffee shop,” Seungwoo answered, unamused. He kind of wished he could blast his revolver through the man’s skull. He frowned.

_ Patience is a virtue, _ Seungwoo chanted to himself as he subtly massaged his temple. _ Patience is a virtue. _

“Maybe you should make one. Heard coffee shops are making good money,” Jinhyuk said nonchalantly, much to the other man’s annoyance. 

Seungwoo’s frown deepened as he tapped his fingers on his mahogany desk. A message that his patience was nearing zero. “Do you even need anything else here?” he asked sharply, his voice low. A threat. “You are _ more _than welcome to leave.” 

“Aw, sure you’re not gonna miss me?” A sly smile adorned Jinhyuk’s face as he replied. Instead of falling into the man’s game further, Seungwoo opted to stand up and lean against the door, motioning silently for Jinhyuk to leave.

Jinhyuk laughed for a quick second before his expression darkened. He didn’t smile, nor did he frown. Unreadable, almost. Seungwoo stiffened, alert. Years of experience was never enough for him to expect what the informant's next move would be.

And here, Jinhyuk glanced at a chess board on the coffee table, ignored since their conversation started. He hummed as he set up the pieces, like he was about to start a game of chess. Seungwoo raised an eyebrow.

Jinhyuk lifted the white king piece and pointed it at Seungwoo.

“You see this king? This used to be Lee,” the informant said. He put the king back to its place before continuing. “His was a special game.” He then placed the black king piece outside of the chess board. “No one was a match for him. A lone king.”

Seungwoo leaned in a little, getting a closer look.

“But now that the Lee are gone, Lee Dongwook is no longer king. You,” Jinhyuk resumed as he lifted the black king piece again, “and Cho Seungyoun,” with his other hand, he lifted the white king piece, “are the kings.”

He then returned the white king piece back to where it was on the board.

“Your men are your pawns.”

With the black king piece he held, Jinhyuk tackled the white and black pawns.

“Those assistants of yours might be rooks, or knights,” he said, knocking the respective chess pieces.

Seungwoo stared in silence, watching as Jinhyuk messed the chess board like a five-year-old. Or maybe, with that unreadable expression, a psychopath. The line was thin.

Jinhyuk continued. “But if this world is a game of chess, it clearly doesn’t have the rules to protect your pieces.”

He then began knocking every single chess piece with the black king piece, leaving only the white king piece in place.

“In this messy chess game where dead rooks can come back alive and living knights can be dead by a pawn...”

Jinhyuk knocked down the white chess piece and put the black king piece at the center of the board. He then stood up and grabbed his coat resting on Seungwoo’s sofa. The mafia informant matched the young don’s gaze.

With a smirk, Jinhyuk said, “I wonder what piece Kim Wooseok might be?” 

Han Seungwoo didn’t move an inch from his current position, his eyes following Jinhyuk’s every movement as the latter walked closer to the door. Seungwoo’s body involuntarily tensed as Jinhyuk stopped right beside him before pushing the study room’s door open.

“Choose well, Han,” Jinhyuk said lowly, barely a whisper. “If you want to be the last piece standing.” 

Seungwoo stood up straight. Silent. He watched as Jinhyuk visibly relaxed and showed his trademark grin, as if nothing happened in the first place.

“Well, it’s time for me to go. _ Salute." _Jinhyuk cheerfully waved his hand in a salute motion and exited the room. 

When the door closed, Han Seungwoo brushed his hair slowly with his hands. He breathed in as much air as he could as an attempt to calm down from the annoyance the mafia informant left him with.

He looked up when the door opened and Seungsik calmly entered the study room.

“I’m surprised you haven’t blown that man’s brain out, Boss.” Seungsik commented while stifling a laugh as he saw the clear discomfort in Seungwoo’s overall body language. Seungwoo scoffed.

“One day. Maybe.” 

* * *

“Hi, I’m Choi Byungchan, journalist from The Daily City News. I was told by Detective Song Yuvin to meet him here?” Byungchan asked the receptionist of the police precinct with a warm smile. 

The receptionist smiled back as she reached for the telephone in front of her. “Please wait a minute.” 

Byungchan took a step back and observed his surroundings. The precinct had dim lighting and was quite dusty. There were several civilians waiting on the couches, some police officers walking back and forth, some chatting with each other. Byungchan noticed that this might just be a normal day at the office.

“Choi Byungchan!”

The tall journalist looked up and saw the detective he met yesterday wave his coffee cup at him, signaling a gesture to follow. So Byungchan did. 

Eventually, they arrived at the archives room’s entrance in the precinct’s basement. There was a booth for the receptionist, seperating him and the visitors with a thin, glass window in between (with only a slight opening to slide documents across).

Yuvin sent the receptionist a grin from behind the booth. “Do you have the archives I asked for yesterday, Officer Yoon?” he asked in a light tone.

The receptionist, Officer Yoon, scoffed and pointed at the stack of files resting near him. “I did and you better thank me. I worked overtime to do your request.” 

Yuvin grinned back and tapped the window playfully as he reached for the files. “And I owe you, Officer Yoon!” 

The detective then proceeded to give the files to Byungchan who received it with a surprised expression. Yuvin apparently noticed and raised his eyebrows.

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

Byungchan immediately shook his head, “No. I mean, can I carry this outside the precinct or...?” He trailed off when he realized that his question was an obvious question that no one needed to answer. Yuvin even shot a_ ‘what-do-you-think’ _look at the tall reporter. 

“Archives closes at 3 PM. You better study those before they close,” Yuvin said as he patted a desk in front of the archives room. Byungchan took a seat there and put down the files on said desk.

It looked like he would spend his whole day reading the police reports and documents. Byungchan scratched his head while smiling to himself. Before he could start reading the reports, Yuvin’s hand stopped him.

“Also, please do me a favor and don’t create any problems for me...” Yuvin said, voice quiet yet firm. “I want to enjoy today’s evening with some friends in peace.” Letting out a sigh, he stared at Byungchan, as if he could sniff that the tall journalist was up to no good. 

“I’ll try.” Byungchan gave a small smile to the other man. “Have fun, detective.”

Yuvin stared at Byungchan for an extra second. “If you _ do _ create problems, I will personally handcuff your slender hands.” With that threat hanging in the air, the young detective began leaving the archives room’s area. He waved his hand in a quick motion and disappeared as he made his way to the stairs. 

Byungchan’s smile became sour as he muttered, “I’m sorry, detective...”

* * *

“Kim Yohan, I swear to God if you want me or Seungyoun dead, just fucking say it!” Lee Hangyul yelled as the car took a sharp turn, passing by some vehicles with insane speed. Hangyul, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had both hands on his seatbelt, suddenly fearing for his life.

_ I mean, _ Hangyul thought. _ It’s not going to make a good headline if the Cho Family heir and his notable subordinates died in a car crash due to reckless driving, right? _

“Look, I just want us to arrive at the designated time!” Yohan screamed back, his eyes never left the road as he spun the steering wheel in a quick motion. This time, their car passed a huge truck, causing the truck driver to honk his horn angrily, clearly not a fan of a fancy car suddenly overtaking him in such a reckless way. 

“Do you mean our designated deaths?!” Hangyul reprimanded in return. 

Yohan turned his attention towards Hangyul and frowned. He was midway through opening his mouth to protest when Hangyul cut him off with an angry scream. 

“EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD, KIM YOHAN!”

Meanwhile Cho Seungyoun, who was sitting in the backseat of his car, could only massage his temple. He immediately regretted his decision to dismiss his personal driver for the day. He also regretted his decision on letting Yohan take the wheel instead of Hangyul... Not that the latter was any better at driving in comparison to Yohan.

_ At least Hangyul isn’t as deadly as Yohan,_ Seungyoun thought as he observed his subordinates’ banter with each other. It was a view that he was used to since both Hangyul and Yohan had been with Seungyoun, the Cho Family heir, since they were children. 

Seungyoun himself witnessed the growth of his two closest subordinates. From the day they played ball or hide and seek together in the huge Cho Family mansion, to the day Hangyul and Yohan pledged loyalty to the Cho Family and to Cho Seungyoun himself. On that day, Seungyoun had just turned 16 years old. In the seven years that have passed since then, both Hangyul and Yohan had always stood beside Seungyoun proudly and would always have the young don's back. 

Seungyoun trusted them to protect his back but he definitely didn't— _ shouldn’t _ trust both of them, especially Yohan, to drive him again.

“Yohan. Please. I do want to arrive on time but I want my body to still be intact when we arrive there,” Seungyoun commented tiredly, followed by Hangyul’s victorious _ ‘ha!’ _ to the man behind the wheel. 

Yohan was about to protest again as he turned his attention to Seungyoun sitting in the backseat.

But both Seungyoun and Hangyul screamed in unison, _ “EYES ON THE FUCKING ROAD!” _

They did arrive at their destination on time, with every body part still intact and without a single scratch.

_Thank God, if there’s any to begin with, _ Seungyoun thought as he got out of his car into a quiet shopping neighbourhood. 

Seungyoun could vaguely hear Hangyul’s angry rants towards Yohan, which were basically a barrage of _ “You are NOT driving again. If you want to kill us I’ll provide you with a handgun. Don’t try to murder us with your reckless driving, Kim Yohan." _Yohan only replied with a disgruntled frown. 

There weren't many people around the neighborhood, considering it was located in the outskirts. There weren’t many shops that were open at the said shopping neighbourhood as well, some of them being permanently closed or didn’t have any people visiting. 

Seungyoun patted his clothes down and sent a signal to both Yohan and Hangyul to end their banter and follow him. The two men quietly complied and followed Seungyoun closely as their boss began walking towards the shopping neighbourhood.

The three men approached one of the old buildings and observed it closely. It was an old building, judging from how rundown it was. Yet it had a bright, jarring neon light, imprinted with_ "Genie Printing" _ above it. 

From the outside, the building looked like a normal printing service albeit it being vacant of guests. Upon entering, you would see nothing out of the ordinary from the said shop. You would see some staff working on printing machines, some compiling posters and books. You would also smell the scent of paper fresh out of printing, probably followed by the strong scent of ink that was used in the printing machines. It was like your average, normal printing service place.

The building was weirdly enormous despite it having only seven employees. However, if you observe closely, the printing business only used a small portion of the space of the building.

Then, what was the rest of the building’s space used for? 

Only a certain amount of people knew what lay behind that printing business. A dark secret underlying what seemed to be a normal printing business. 

Seungyoun walked towards a small path located beside the building with his subordinates following behind. When they arrived at what seemed like a backdoor of the building, Seungyoun did a rhythmic knock on the door. A secret knock. He tapped his foot impatiently as no one opened the door nor gave any form of answer. He was so close to ordering Hangyul and Yohan to break down the damn thing when it finally creaked open.

A man peeked from the door’s gap, glaring at Seungyoun. “What’s the password?” he asked quietly.

Seungyoun scoffed. “The password is _ open the goddamn door," _he blurted out in annoyance, folding his hands as he glared at the man who was peeking through the gap. “Nam. Open up before I blast both this door and your face.”

The man, Nam, visibly shivered before finally opening the door and moving to the side, making a path for the three men to enter. This surely wasn’t a regular visit. Cho was not supposed to visit until the end of the month. It wasn’t even supposed to be Cho Seungyoun, _ the head _of the family. It was supposed to be Kim Yohan, alone. Or even his other subordinates. Nam might just be a small fish, but he knew immediately that Cho was not here to play. Cho Seungyoun didn’t lose his temper often, but when he did, Nam certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to face it. 

The four of them walked through a hallway lit by yellow lights, making the atmosphere dim. On the side of the hallways were doors— some closed, some opened, showcasing rooms filled with tubes and lab equipment while some were filled with cardboard boxes. _ A small drug factory. _

About ten people roamed around the building, bowing politely when they accidentally met Seungyoun’s eyes.

Nam led the three guests to a room at the end of the hallway, a placard with_ Office _ written on it hanging on the door. Nam knocked three times. Seungyoun could hear a small _ fuck off _ from inside the room. Nam fidgeted nervously, he knocked again and tried to notify, “Sir, boss is—”

_“I said fuck off!”_ the voice in the room said. Seungyoun rolled his eyes. He shoved Nam out of his way and kicked the door.

_ Three, _ he counted in his head. _ Two... One. _

“What the fuck do you want Nam?! I told you to fuck—” A short man in his thirties opened the door roughly. He froze when he faced Seungyoun’s chest. He looked up slowly, eyes widening.

“Cho— I mean, Boss!” he gasped. Seungyoun kept a straight face, clearly unimpressed.

“Are you not gonna invite me in, Kwon?”

“O-of course! Of course! Come in! Nam, get us some wine and—”

“No need,” Seungyoun cut him off. “I’m not here for pleasantries. Let’s talk inside.” A pause. “That is... _ if _ you have anything you want to talk about,” he challenged, raising his eyebrows.

Kwon gulped and let Seungyoun and Hangyul walk in before closing the door, leaving Nam and Yohan outside. Kwon’s office was quite small, laced with cigarettes and the smell of weed in every corner. Seungyoun took a seat on the worn-out sofa in the corner of the room while Hangyul stood on guard near the door. Kwon stood a few steps away from Seungyoun, lighting a cigarette as he tried to mask the slight tremble in his hands.

Seungyoun lifted an eyebrow in silence, urging Kwon to talk. Kwon sighed before walking to the small bookcase behind him and handing Seungyoun a document filled with financial reports.

“I know you’re here about the profit— or well, the lack of it, from this district,” Kwon started. Seungyoun kept his silence as he skimmed through the report. “I know I’m risking my head by saying this, but I haven’t fully investigated the cause.”

Seungyoun moved slightly to fix his sitting position but Kwon flinched, his whole body alert.

“The only explanation for the sudden loss is strays. But we have been keeping up a strict security and it’s highly unbelievable that—”

“Strays?” Seungyoun said, voice firm.

Kwon sighed. “Yes. The only explanation is that we have _ competitors__._ A very stupid one at that, because looking at how drastic the change is, they won’t be getting a huge margin of profit by selling the drugs at that ridiculously low price. The thing is, we keep track of every competitor. This one’s undetected, which means—”

Seungyoun quickly drew the conclusion. “It might be someone from our side.”

“...Yes, Boss.”

“And the police?”

“Oh.” Kwon sat down as he recalled the police incident a few days ago. “They sniffed the warehouse at the south. It was a pretty remote one though, so I do wonder where they got the info on the deals going on there.” 

“Do you think they’re connected?”

“Pardon?”

Seungyoun rolled his eyes in annoyance. This was precisely why he never wanted to deal with mid-tiers. They were a pain in the ass. Too stupid for heavy cases but too smart to be a lapdog.

“The strays and the leak to the police. Are they by any chance connected?” Seungyoun asked, this time he leaned his body forward, adding an intimidating feel to Kwon who immediately broke out in cold sweat. 

“Oh? Oh.... I haven’t thought about that but... maybe? After all, even though the deal was not massive, it still put a dent to our stocks...” Kwon trailed off when he noticed the change in his boss’s expression.

Seungyoun’s frown deepened. It wasn’t an unfounded case. Strays were bound to happen now and then. He just needed to deal with them as early as possible. But the timing right after Lee’s death smelled fishy. Especially with the police incident. It didn’t feel like small fries trying to scrape easy money by selling cheap drugs and fucking up the standardized price that the Cho had maintained. It felt like a deliberate setup. Seungyoun twisted his face in disgust, like he just smelled a nasty sewer. 

_ Han. _

Seungyoun caught Hangyul’s eyes. They were probably thinking about the same thing. It terribly smelled like Han. It smelled like what Han Seungwoo would do to fuck around with him. The disturbance it caused was small— this district wasn’t even a major contributor to Seungyoun’s sales— but it _ irked. _Like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Seungyoun got up from his seat and walked to the door. Kwon followed him behind like a lost child. Seungyoun rolled his eyes as he turned around and faced Kwon.

“Continue with what you’ve been doing. Give me follow-up if you find anything new about the stray. For now, let all deals go through Nam and Nam only. If the info leaks, send Nam to my mansion.”

Kwon nodded fervently and bowed as Seungyoun exited the room, Hangyul following him from behind.

“Yohan, we’re going.” Seungyoun called out as he and Hangyul passed by Yohan, who was standing intimidatingly in front of Nam.

Nam kept looking at his shoes. Yohan nodded at the mention of his name and gave the pale-faced man in front of him a quick glare and left. 

Seungyoun stopped in his tracks and turned to Nam, who flinched at the sudden attention he received from the head of the Cho Family. With the lowest voice he could muster, Seungyoun opened his mouth. “Nam. Next time you see me in front of the door, just open the fucking door right away.”

Nam bowed deeply while Seungyoun, Hangyul, and Yohan walked away.

“Did you really have to do that?” Hangyul asked as they approached the car. “Cut that guy some slack. Nam’s a good kid.”

Seungyoun scoffed as he placed his chin on top of the car. He stared at Hangyul for a quick second before he blurted, “You’re still too nice.” 

Hangyul stifled a small laugh as he opened the passenger seat door and entered the car. Seungyoun was the last to enter the vehicle. He braced himself when he heard Hangyul’s angry scolding at Yohan who, again, was behind the steering wheel.

“How was it?” Yohan said, looking at Seungyoun through the rearview mirror. He drove slowly this time, though Hangyul still clicked his tongue at the sight of Yohan looking away from the road.

“It’s nothing big,” Seungyoun answered. “But it irks. I smell shit.”

“The Han?” Hangyul suggested. Seungyoun nodded.

A sliver of doubt in his expression, Yohan asked, “The Han?” 

“It smells like that bastard Han Seungwoo. It’s _ annoying_._”_ Seungyoun complained as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and leaned his head comfortably on the leather car seat. It wasn’t a physically taxing trip, but it sure drained some of Seungyoun’s mental energy when he deduced that Han Seungwoo might be involved. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that informant’s involved too though,” Hangyul added, glancing at Seungyoun. 

Yohan agreed. “I still don’t get why we still use that Lee Jinhyuk guy. Isn’t our private informant enough? There’s no guarantee he’s not leaking our confidential information to others.” He then recklessly passed some cars, earning him an intense glare from Hangyul to which he quietly mumbled a quick _ “sorry”._

“We need him because he has ears _everywhere,_” Seungyoun answered. “The Han, the police, the government.” He stared at the car’s ceiling before continuing. “Besides, he’s smart enough to know which information he can disclose without getting his neck sliced. Even if he’s involved in this one, it’s not enough to hang his head on the fireplace.”

As if summoned, Seungyoun felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Jinhyuk.

_ “Yo.” _

“Talk.”

_ “Geez you’re becoming more and more stuck up. Careful, you’ll be like Han in no time.” _

“I’m gonna break your neck the next time you come around.” Seungyoun seethed at the mention of Han Seungwoo from Jinhyuk. 

_ “Chill. Listen. The Twin Citadel, next week, 8PM.” _

Seungyoun stiffened. “What deal?” he asked.

_ “See it for yourself. Just a precaution, wear your protective gear.” _

“Never need them. Too stuffy.”

_ “Well, don’t blame me if you die.” _

“You don’t care.”

_ “You’re funny. True, though. I don’t care.” _

“About Kim Wooseok.”

_ “I don’t have significant updates on him.” _

“I’ll win him.”

Jinhyuk was silent for a while before a thundering laugh was heard from the other end of the line, catching Seungyoun by surprise. Even Yohan and Hangyul winced at the sound. The phone wasn’t even on speaker mode.

_ “Careful, you don’t want the Cho Family burning in flames.” _

Something changed in Seungyoun’s eyes and he replied harshly.

“I’ll worry about my family. Your job is to provide information. Nothing more, nothing less.”

_ “Whatever you say, Cho. See you when I see you.” _

Seungyoun massaged his temples in exhaustion when the line went dead. The head of the Cho Family shoved his phone into his jacket pocket.

“The Twin Citadel,” Seungyoun said. “Next week, 8 PM. Put that on my schedule.”

“What’s going on?” Yohan asked. 

“I don’t know yet.” Seungyoun ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Hangyul, look up some info on Park. I have a feeling he’s involved in whatever is going on next week.”

Hangyul responded quickly. “Roger.”

Yohan added another question. “And what about the profit?” 

“We’ll play his game.” Seungyoun answered as his lips formed into a smirk. This time, he leaned forward and placed his hands on Yohan and Hangyul’s seats respectively. “How do you feel about new guns for us?”

Night had fallen by the time the three men reached their accommodations. The hotel wasn’t as impressive as the ones back in _ their city,_ but they were here for business. Just like on any other business trip where they had to make personal visits, comfort wasn’t the main top priority.

Nevertheless, they still booked the best hotel and the best room that this city had to offer. The building stood tall, and they were to occupy the whole top floor and its luxurious penthouse suite. 

_ Only the best for the heir of the Cho Family and his most trusted men. _

Seungyoun had privacy as his top priority. He didn’t want any disturbance from the other occupants of the building. With the hallways empty, he would be free to do whatever he pleased.

Plus, he also had plans. And he might not have admitted it right there, but Seungyoun had been looking forward to it.

“You’re here,” Seungyoun announced as he saw a man standing in front of his hotel room door.

Hangyul and Yohan simultaneously reached for their weapons upon seeing the man’s silhouette, but Seungyoun waved his hand, signaling both of his men to stand their ground.

“Kim Wooseok," he called. 

The man walked towards the light. _ Kim Wooseok. _ He was wearing a red suit with a dark shirt underneath it. A bit flashy for the assassin who had massacred an entire mafia family, Seungyoun must say. But the color red suited him well.

Wooseok’s expression didn’t change as Seungyoun approached him slowly until the taller man was in front of him. Wooseok slowly tilted his head up so he could see the Cho Family heir’s eyes. 

“You summoned me,” Wooseok replied shortly. “I came as requested.” 

Seungyoun let out a small chuckle as his hand reached for the door knob, swiping his hotel card and opening his hotel room. He did so without moving an inch from his position in front of Wooseok. Wooseok himself didn’t move as well.

“We won't have any privacy if we talk in the hallway. Let’s continue inside, shall we?” Seungyoun invited Wooseok, flashing the assassin his trademark smile— a smile that he used when he appeared in charity events. A smile so innocent-like that Wooseok knew was issued to hide thousands of dark secrets that the young don might have.

Wooseok entered the room and Seungyoun followed him quietly, not before giving a signal to both Hangyul and Yohan to guard his room. 

The door closed behind Seungyoun, a small _ beep _indicating that it had been locked. Hangyul and Yohan immediately stood near the closed door, guarding it.

“Hangyul,” Yohan called out and the other man turned his attention to him, raising his eyebrows.

Yohan turned his head towards Hangyul too until they were both staring at each other.

Then, the older of two opened his mouth. “Do you think they’re gonna bang?” 

For a few solid seconds, Hangyul just stared at his friend, his gaze sharp but difficult to read.

His mind was elsewhere. The first thing that flashed in his mind was of two nights ago— of Seungyoun gasping and moaning underneath him, of the feeling of Seungyoun’s fingernails digging deep into the younger man’s back. And now, Hangyul wondered if the marks were still visible on his skin. Or if the marks that _ he _had left on Seungyoun’s skin were still there.

His face was still unreadable. He may have looked indifferent and calm, but there was something else. Something difficult to pinpoint. In the end, Hangyul simply answered, “Who Seungyoun has sex with is none of my concern.”

Yohan returned the gaze, squinting as if trying to figure his friend out. “Really now?”

“Really.”

Not convinced, Yohan finally gave a shrug. “Whatever you say.”

Hangyul decided it was better to just stare at the wall in front of him. So that was what he did, trying to ignore how Yohan was _ still _looking at him.

_ It’s none of my concern__,_ Hangyul told himself. _ None at all. _

Music greeted the two as they entered the room. It was the soft melody of a piano— calm, elegant, soothing. Seungyoun had asked the hotel service to keep the music on all day before his arrival. And being the heir of the Cho Family, a simple request was easily granted.

The room itself was large and dimly lit. It had all that was expected of a suite room and even more. A queen size bed, a large television on the wall surrounded by paintings, two armchairs near a small table near the tall window. Half a dozen bottles of the finest wine were put in the center of the table, a stack of glasses right next to it.

Seungyoun gestured towards one of the armchairs. “Take a seat.”

“Ooh,” Wooseok cooed. “Well, isn’t this a different welcome? Last time we met— also the first time, actually— you were holding me at gunpoint.”

“You just wiped out an entire family,” Seungyoun said calmly. “I had to take precautions, didn’t I?”

Wooseok hummed in response before saying, “I prefer to stand.”

Seungyoun shrugged, walking over to the table. “Alright then. Would you like a drink?”

“With the possibility of you poisoning me? I’ll pass.”

“Now why would I want to do that?” Seungyoun asked, his voice sweet. He took a bottle of red wine into his hands, removing the cork easily with skilled fingers. For a bit he stared at the sight outside the window, seeing all the little lights and buildings below. It really wasn’t as large and hauntingly beautiful as the city where the Cho Family mansion resided, but it was still at least something.

“Who knows?” Wooseok said. “Maybe you thought that killing me is an easier option than what we had promised.”

Seungyoun put a hand on his chest, an exaggerated, offended look on his face. “I would never.”

Wooseok smirked at that.

They both spoke in calm, quiet voices. If someone were to come across them, they might have appeared to be two men having a conversation about everyday things and just simply getting to know each other. Maybe a conversation about a day at the office. Or just little, mundane things.

Not about murder. Not about killing each other. But that was exactly what they were talking about.

“Chopin,” Wooseok then suddenly said, gesturing towards the speakers where the music emitted from. “Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2.”

Seungyoun grinned. “You know good music.”

“Who doesn’t know this song?”

“Fair point,” Seungyoun agreed. “It’s one of the first songs that I learned to play on the piano, back when I was a little boy.”

Wooseok didn’t say anything, as if the small bit of information wasn’t worth thinking about. Not feeling discouraged, Seungyoun began walking back towards the smaller man, the glass of wine in his hand.

“How’s the plan for destroying Han Seungwoo and his family?” he asked. His tone was so casual that he might as well be asking about the weather.

Not moving from his spot even as Seungyoun got closer and closer, Wooseok clicked his tongue. As if scolding a child. “Did I not tell you that planning an entire family’s downfall takes time? It’s barely been two days. I didn’t think you would be this impatient, Cho.”

“Forgive me for my impatience, _ your highness."_ Seungyoun halted right in front of the other man, staring down into those cat-like eyes. “The Han Family has been on my nerves for a long, long time. So I hope my impatience is understandable.”

Even at their close proximity, Wooseok didn’t budge. He stood there, as calm as ever, staring back at him with the same sharp gaze. “Well, you better start trying.”

It was odd. Usually if other people were in Wooseok’s place, they would already feel both intimidated and afraid. Seungyoun remembered how they would tremble and cower.

But Wooseok was the complete opposite of that. And somehow, Seungyoun didn’t find himself feeling all that disappointed.

Maybe he was starting to like the other man’s feisty attitude. Besides, he was able to see _ the _Kim Wooseok from up close. Close enough to see the curl of his lips, the individual strands of hair that fell over his forehead.

Up close, Kim Wooseok was even more breathtaking.

Seungyoun took a sip of his red wine before he started. “You know. There’s something I’m curious about.”

Wooseok tilted his head to the side a bit, waiting for the question.

“What does a pretty boy like you gain from destroying the Lee Family?”

Wooseok showed a small smile, secretive. “What do you think?”

Seungyoun barked a laugh. “You’re like a fox, you know that?”

“No. That’s a new comparison.”

And Seungyoun laughed harder. “I see. Revenge? Money? Or maybe...” He leaned in a little, gaze unwavering. Only a few centimeters between them, their breaths mingled. “You just want to taste blood?”

Wooseok put two fingers on Seungyoun’s lips and pushed his face away. “I heard keeping secrets is sexy.”

Feeling warmth radiate from the other man’s skin on his lips, Seungyoun felt the corner of his mouth begin to curl. Wooseok was feistier than he thought.

He continued to talk, feeling Wooseok’s fingers brush against his lips as he did so. “So I guess you won’t answer if I asked about whether you have accomplices or not too?”

“Smart boy.”

With his free hand, Seungyoun put a hand underneath Wooseok’s chin, tilting up his head. “You’re very brave.”

“So are you,” Wooseok said.

It all happened in a split second. Like a blur, Wooseok’s hand had lowered from Seungyoun’s mouth, snaking down to the collar of his shirt and grasping it— _ hard. _The taller man found himself unable to move.

Seungyoun then felt something cold hovering over his neck. The tip of a knife. Wooseok was holding a knife against_ the_ _heir of the Cho Family._

He had nearly dropped his glass of wine, but somehow he didn’t. The walls were soundproof, but he knew that Hangyul had exceptional hearing. At the sound of shattering glass, his right-hand man would come rushing in, knowing that something was wrong. Even a locked door wouldn’t be able to stop him. 

Seungyoun could have screamed for help. His two men would barge right in there, guns at the ready. But he didn’t.

The music continued to play. It would have been a fitting song for a slow dance, hand in hand with a loved one. Not exactly a song to have in the background while one’s life was being threatened.

Kim Wooseok was holding a knife against his throat, but Seungyoun didn’t cower in fear.

Instead, Seungyoun gave the biggest smirk he had ever given to anyone. He would have laughed, but he knew that the extra pressure would push the blade against his skin.

Their eyes locked, Wooseok’s gaze remained just as sharp as the knife held against Seungyoun’s throat. The shorter man then whispered, “You better be mindful of your words and actions, Cho.”

“Oh, I’m _ really _ starting to like you.”

Wooseok tugged the other man closer, grip on his collar becoming even rougher. “Careful there,” he warned sweetly.

Just one quick movement of Wooseok’s arm and Seungyoun would be a goner. It would have been that easy and simple.

Drawing in a breath and slowly letting it out, Wooseok released him, shoving him back in the process. As Seungyoun rubbed his neck to check for damage, Wooseok had taken a seat in one of the armchairs.

“You summoned me here,” the shorter man said, throwing his knife onto the table. It clattered against the wooden surface, bumping into the wine bottles. “Why? Please tell me you had reasons other than asking me those boring questions.”

“Ouch. That’s a little harsh,” Seungyoun chuckled. After confirming that his neck was fine, he made his way to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. He opened it, revealing a single red rose inside. Another little request of his. “But yes. I have my other reasons.”

With his long legs, Seungyoun crossed the room quickly. Right in front of Wooseok, he tossed the rose onto the table. It landed silently right next to the knife.

Wooseok stared at the flower, his face passive. “And what is this?”

Seungyoun dropped into the other armchair, facing the other man. “A gift.”

“A gift?”

“Don’t you think the throne will be lonely?” Seungyoun put his elbow on the table, resting his chin on it. “Ruling the whole world by yourself?”

“Just get to the point, Cho.” It seemed like Wooseok already expected what was coming next. Seungyoun still kept the smile on his face.

“Wouldn’t you want someone by your side to rule the world with you?”

Wooseok let out another small breath. It highly resembled a scoff. “Someone like you?”

“We’d make a powerful pair, don’t you think?”

“Loneliness is the least of my worries.”

“Then how about the power?”

“I have more than enough without you.”

Seungyoun sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He set down the glass of wine, taking the rose between his fingers. He then stood up, bending down to tuck the flower in the chest pocket of Wooseok’s suit. Surprised that Wooseok didn’t attack him right there, Seungyoun grinned. “Don’t I at least have the honor of you considering my proposal?"

“Two things,” Wooseok said, leaning in. “One, you don’t even know if I want the throne in the first place.”

Seungyoun sat back down. “Oh?”

“And two,” Wooseok continued. “Your proposal doesn’t seem worth considering.”

“Wow, you really are so harsh sometimes.”

Wooseok climbed to his feet, grabbing his knife and tucking it into its holster, hidden behind his suit. “I’ll be taking my leave then.”

“You know, you could stay the night here. We could discuss this further.”

“Time is precious, Cho.” Wooseok was already heading towards the door. “I’d rather not waste it with you.”

“Damn harsh.”

Hand on the doorknob, Wooseok was ready to leave right there. But Seungyoun had crept up behind him, a hand on the door, keeping it in place. The other hand was planted on the wall right beside Wooseok’s face, trapping him in between the taller man’s strong arms.

Wooseok didn’t flinch at all. He just glanced over his shoulder, gaze piercing as he met Seungyoun’s eyes.

Seungyoun had bent down a little so he could get closer. And closer.

“My proposal still stands,” he said, ever so quietly. “Please know that.”

Not saying a thing, Wooseok didn’t move. He continued to stand there, hand still on the doorknob.

Seungyoun then pulled away. A few seconds passed before the smaller man finally opened the door, letting it swing open. Without an answer or even a single word, he straightened his suit and left the room.

Wooseok didn’t glance back. Not once.

Not realizing that his heart had been pounding the whole time, Seungyoun put a hand on his chest. The grin on his face grew. The brief encounter had gotten his adrenaline running.

He then stepped out into the hallway, seeing how empty it was. Wooseok was gone already.

“Yo, boss.”

At Yohan’s voice, Seungyoun turned to him. He was right next to the open door, looking more than a little curious.

“Did everything go well?” Yohan asked.

Seungyoun nodded. “Something like that.”

On his other side, Hangyul was looking at him closely. He had always been the observant type. “You alright, Seungyoun?”

“Yeah. Completely fine.”

A slight pause. “You look happy.”

At his right-hand man’s statement, Seungyoun found himself thinking. The adrenaline continued to pump in his veins, the soft piano melody still wafting through the air.

“Well,” he then finally said. “I guess you could say that.”

* * *

“Yuvin, you’re paying! Whoever arrives last, pays for everything!”

Yuvin flinched at the sudden yell when he set his foot inside the crowded barbeque place. He caught six figures sitting in one table, including Kookheon, with all of them grinning at him. Yuvin just laughed as he sat with them, taking a seat next to the man who first greeted him. 

“Hell no,” Yuvin retorted in a playful manner as he grabbed a fork, stabbed it at a slice of meat and placed it inside his mouth. All the while he ignored his friend’s whine. “I’m not the one who just got promoted as the face of the police department at the Southern district, Officer Shin Junseop. He deserves to be the one to pay the bills.”

“You’re just jealous but thank you for the compliment.” The man who sat beside him, Junseop, laughed. “Just wait, in no time, my face will be used as the face of the police department for the whole nation!”

“Clearly, our friend here forgot the reason why he entered the force in the first place,” Yuvin commented, earning a laugh from his friends. Junseop lightly slapped the younger man’s thigh, laughing along as well.

“Come on, we have to congratulate Lee Sewoong a.k.a our lovely Taevin for passing the prosecutor bar too!” announced the other man, Eunsu, who sat at the center. He raised the glass full of beer to the air, a bright smile on his face.

Taevin, who was being mentioned, shook his head upon seeing Eunsu raising his glass. "I did pass the bar but it's still a long way for the prosecutor title." 

Yuvin snorted and pointed his finger at Taevin. "Passing the bar is still awesome and you deserve a celebration. So raise your glass, everyone!" 

"Congratulations, Prosecutor Lee Sewoong!" Eunsu cheered and the others followed suit as they held up their beers, drinking it all afterwards.

“Oh! Yuvin, Kookheon! Heard that you two landed on the mafia special task force?” the youngest of the group, Hanseul asked as he focused his attention on both Yuvin and Kookheon respectively. 

“Whoa, really? That’s awesome!” Junseop commented in awe. “Especially after the arson case with the Lee Family!” 

Taevin poured cold tea into his own glass. “Did you manage to find anything? That arson case was really weird.” 

Yuvin and Kookheon shared a look. It was a pity that they couldn’t even reveal what happened behind closed doors of the Lee Family arson case— as it was being called by the public— even with their own police colleagues. The higher-ups of their precinct made them swear not to disclose any information regarding the case due to the confidentiality that, if leaked, it might spur the public into panic. Thus, only their precinct and some higher-ups of the police departments knew the truth of the Lee Family massacre. 

“It’s nothing much though,” Kookheon replied simply. “We’re still chasing on a dead lead. You know how the mafia guys act.” His hand was preparing to cut some meat above the stove. “That’s the reason why Yuvin was late, specifically. He had his hands full with meaningless stacks of mafia-related paperwork.”

“Technically, _ you _ gave them to me so that was _ your _stack of paperwork,” Yuvin retorted, pointing his fork at his supervisor, all the while earning a scoff from Kookheon who didn’t bat an eye from his meat.

Hanseul smiled softly. “Regardless, that’s still awesome news! If you guys succeed with this task force, then it’s a super boost for promotion and also for achieving our dream!”

Kookheon chuckled as he remembered the dream of seven idealistic men, including himself, who came together in the police academy years ago. “Reorganize the police department, right?”

Chunjin, sitting in front of Hanseul, grinned as he said, “It used to be a hollow, idealist dream that we thought back then, but maybe... With all of us rising through the police ranks, slowly but surely, it may come true after all.” 

Yuvin and Kookheon shared a glance and smiled to themselves. What Chunjin said might be true.

Eunsu then cleared his throat. “Just don’t forget to be careful. You know how dangerous dealing with the mafia is, right?” He had asked with a concerned look on his face, staring at both Yuvin and Kookheon. 

“Let us know if you need any help,” Taevin added with a reassuring smile.

“Watch each other’s backs,” Junseop commented with a grin. “In the task force, the two of you only have each other after all.” 

“We’ll support you from our own places while we strive to climb through the ranks,” Chunjin replied surely.

“Take care,” Hanseul ended with a wide grin on his face. 

Yuvin and Kookheon nodded at the comments their friends threw to them. It was nice knowing that there were people out there who supported and looked out for them in their own ways, even though they were apart from each other. 

It was nice and reassuring to know that their bonds would continue to be as strong as ever.

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?”

Seungsik’s words pierced the silence that had been going on in the Han’s study room. Seungwoo was sitting on his black leather sofa, staring at the chess board in front of him, both hands clasped together in front of his mouth. The chess pieces were messy, left untouched since the last time Jinhyuk came and knocked everything down. A sole black king piece stood tall in the middle of the board. Seungwoo ran a hand through his hair, messing up his black locks.

“Lee Jinhyuk,” he sighed with a hint of question and frustration.

Seungsik looked surprised. “Oh? I thought you were thinking about the meeting earlier? Sejun was adamant that Park will start some shit.”

Seungwoo stayed silent. Park was an urgent matter. He knew that. He had so many things he should worry about— businesses, men, _ rats._ But Lee Jinhyuk. His words had been dancing in the back of his mind since their last meeting two days ago.

“What do you think, Seungsik?” asked Seungwoo, completely ignoring Seungsik’s statement earlier. “If this is me...”

Seungwoo put his fingers on the lone black king piece.

“And this is Cho...”

He put the white king piece in front of the black king piece.

“I wonder what Kim Wooseok is.”

Seungsik stared at the chess board, contemplating. “Kim Wooseok is quite an interesting guy. _ Allegedly,_ powerful enough to bring down the great Lee Dongwook’s family.”

Seungwoo scoffed. “You don’t trust him yet.”

“When you’re in this line of work, you need to keep doubting.” Seungsik shrugged. “I doubt so you can trust.”

Seungwoo’s lip corners went up a little bit. Seungsik never changed.

“Continue.”

Seungsik let out a small hum, thinking. “Can’t be a pawn,” he then concluded. “A bishop, at least.”

Seungwoo hummed too, as a response. His eyes lingered on the two queen pieces standing side by side on the table, outside the chess board. He took both pieces with one hand and stared for a few seconds before discarding the white queen and putting the black queen on the board, right next to the black king piece.

It was a simple gesture, nothing grand about it. Nothing that should make Seungsik’s breath hitch, but it did anyway.

“Seungw—“

He was cut off by knocks on the door. The door opened and Sejun’s head peeked through.

“Kim Wooseok has arrived,” Sejun announced.

Seungsik glanced at Seungwoo. The latter cleared his throat as he stood up from the sofa to sit on his desk chair instead.

“Bring him in.”

Seungsik and Sejun bowed quickly before exiting the room, leaving Seungwoo alone. He stayed silent, millions of thoughts swimming in his mind. They all would have to wait though, because he could hear the knob of his door being turned.

Seungwoo looked up when Kim Wooseok entered the room. The smaller man closed the door behind him and stood silently in front of it.

It was their second meeting, but the dark of the night covered a lot of things from Seungwoo’s eyes during their first meeting. So this time, Seungwoo didn’t bother to hide his stare. He observed.

Jinhyuk was right. Kim Wooseok was, for a lack of better terms, _ attractive. _Seungwoo could see that, as he scanned Wooseok’s long eyelashes. His gaze wandered to eye Kim Wooseok from head to toe, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the man’s outfit. 

A gray blazer. Underneath it, a white shirt with a deep neckline that exposed his collarbones. His matching gray pants were fitting, _ a bit too fitting,_ for his legs, accentuating his proportions. His shoes were black and sleek. But Seungwoo’s eyes could not travel far enough for him to not notice the small thing wrapped around Wooseok’s neck. Seungwoo didn’t— _ couldn’t _ miss the black, leather choker on the assassin’s pale and slender neck even if he wanted to. The contrast of colors made it stand out more; black and white like the chess pieces scattered on the table. It suited him perfectly, the choker. As if it was always meant to be placed there. As if chokers were made _ solely _for Wooseok’s neck.

And for a quick moment, Seungwoo wondered how the leather would taste in his mouth and how would the sharp collarbones clash with his teeth.

Wooseok stood still, seemingly unbothered by the stare. Their eyes met and the air in the room felt heavy. They kept staring, none of them willing to back down. Seungwoo could see Wooseok eyeing him back. He could feel the gaze on his exposed tattoos and long fingers, covering half of his mouth as he rested his chin on his hand.

“You called,” Wooseok started. Like a ripple in the water, his voice disturbed the thick, wordless atmosphere.

Seungwoo’s lips formed a small smile.

“Closer.” Seungwoo moved his head as a gesture to ask Kim Wooseok to stand in front of him.

Wooseok complied.

“Join me,” Seungwoo declared as he leaned forward, both of his hands supported the weight of his body, his eyes never leaving Kim Wooseok.

“Pardon?”

If Wooseok was taken aback, he didn’t show it. Seungwoo didn’t know what kind of life the man in front of him had lived, but there was this air around him. A poise in his words and pride in his body language. He looked calm.

“Join me,” Seungwoo repeated again. This time he tilted his head to grasp a better look at the assassin in front of him. The assassin who massacred the Lee Family in a single night. 

Then he let the next three words out.

“Become a Han.”

Wooseok sneered as he stared at Seungwoo. The Han heir stood up from his seat to stand in front of Wooseok, towering him. Wooseok wouldn’t back down, Seungwoo knew that. Maybe he liked that. Maybe with less than a meter of space between them, the thick air was less suffocating and more heady. Exhilarating. 

Wooseok stood still, only his mouth was moving, a jeering smile on his lips. “As your _ lapdog _? No thanks.” 

“Stop humbling yourself,” Seungwoo said as he leaned closer, his face barely an inch away from Wooseok. 

From this close proximity, Seungwoo could count Wooseok’s eyelashes. He could map the lights reflected in Wooseok’s eyes and a small old scar on his cheek. Seungwoo could also see the black leather choker from the corner of his vision. Two fingers voluntarily moved to caress the black leather, slowly, carefully, not allowing any skin contact.

Seungwoo could visibly_ see _the shivers Wooseok got. He leaned his lips closer to Wooseok’s ears. He could feel Wooseok’s warm breath on his neck and suddenly the shiver was mutual. Their cheeks touched, their scents mingled.

“Kim Wooseok,” he whispered softly, his lips touching Wooseok’s ears slightly as they moved. “Join me, as a partner.” 

Wooseok scoffed, warm air hitting the skin of Seongwoo's neck. Wooseok’s hand crept on the other man's back, slowly going up. It found its destination on Seungwoo’s hair near his nape, at the same time as Seungwoo’s hand found its place on Wooseok’s neck. Wooseok tugged a little bit, silently asking Seungwoo to move a little, enabling them to see eye-to-eye. 

Silence filled the room, saved for the constant ticking of an antique clock hanging on the wall. Two breaths mingled, the tip of their noses touched. A small smirk began to appear on Wooseok’s face.

“Han Seungwoo,” he said, voice no louder than a whisper.

A heartbeat passed.

“I’m not stupid,” Wooseok said in a seductive voice, his finger twirled a stray hair from Seungwoo’s otherwise perfectly gelled hairdo.

Seungwoo tried to stop his breath from hitching. His mind instinctively knew that this might be dangerous. What Kim Wooseok gave was a sign of acceptance, without the slightest hint of willingness to lose and back down. It was an open invitation. Wooseok would play Seungwoo’s game. 

“The Han will only have one ruler. Heard you’d fight your own brothers for that? Or even your own father?"

Seungwoo’s jaw stiffened at the words. Wooseok’s slender fingers continued to stroke and twirl his hair. The assassin opened his mouth again, his tone sweet but laced with poison, mocking.

"And,” Wooseok continued, “people said that the Han treasures brotherhood and famiglia."

Seungwoo tightened his hold on Wooseok’s neck before leaning back, giving a bit more space between the two of them. Wooseok could see the glint in the man’s eyes, a warning siren blasting from his gaze.

“Careful, Kim. It would be a shame to ruin that pretty mouth of yours.”

Wooseok huffed and took two steps back, slowly retracting his hand from Seungwoo’s hair, moving slowly down Seungwoo’s neck, before finally putting it in his own pocket. Wooseok shrugged his shoulders before simply saying, “Then you would know I can’t be your partner.”

The other man didn't answer. The thick air had not subsided for one bit since their conversation started. They observed each other, in silence, trying to read each other’s mind. 

Wooseok raised an eyebrow when Seungwoo’s hand travelled to a lone chess piece on the table. A black king piece. The taller man’s face was unreadable when he slowly put his other hand in his pocket and pulled out a black queen chess piece. 

Steps firm, Seungwoo walked towards Wooseok, once again eliminating the distance between them. With mingling breaths, Wooseok could _ feel _Seungwoo’s smile. And when Seungwoo stepped back a few seconds later, Wooseok had a black queen piece in his hand and a mysterious smile from the man in front of him.

Wooseok observed the chess piece and stiffened when Seungwoo put a hand on his shoulder. The taller man’s hand slowly trailed across Wooseok’s arm, to his elbow, and to his hand.

Without a warning, Seungwoo held Wooseok’s hand and pulled it closer to his mouth, giving a small kiss to the back of the pale hand. Polite. A gentleman act. But Seungwoo’s eyes gave away nothing of that sort. They were hot, burning; with ambition, with something else, maybe. When Seungwoo said his next sentence, Wooseok could map the words as Seungwoo’s lips moved against the skin of his hand.

“I’ll offer this one more time,” Seungwoo said.

Another small kiss.

“Become a Han.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reasons why this chapter took a long time and why the next chapters will also take a long time so we apologize in advance:
> 
> \- di and meshi just graduated college  
\- hira is adjusting to her new job and new office  
\- di is adjusting to her internship  
\- meshi yeeted to the states and is adjusting to time differences  
\- yes is taking care of kids (no, they're not her kids lol, but lots of kids)
> 
> so. yeah. :") 
> 
> p.s. We have finished plotting the whole story though!! We also try to write in between our daily lives!! We love this mafia au as much as you do so we'll always try to deliver our best content :)
> 
> Thank you for waiting and see you in chapter 4!! ♥ the plot will really start kicking off there!  

> 
> ______
> 
> 'if the world stops turning' music playlist: [spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/06wvfVuHe1TYTl1PZZ3Ec2?si=6P3kURpSRj6Sq0Lkz1Xz7w) | [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvf3aIbal9dcjJxWtyUbtSjvdG0wbDOn5)  
  
  
our twitters uwu:  
[hira](https://twitter.com/myday_blackrose) | [di](https://twitter.com/narangsalja) | [meshi](https://twitter.com/meshiin_) | yes☆ on [twitter](https://twitter.com/annyeong_desu), [tumblr](https://flower-kitty07.tumblr.com/?ref_url=https://flower-kitty07.tumblr.com/post/186369418374/ml-fic-soulmate-survey-part-15/embed)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things:
> 
> \- Shit starts getting real intense in this chapter.
> 
> \- Also, we made some full names of the very very very minor characters, so if they coincidentally have the same names as real people (who are not related to PDX), it’s unintentional.
> 
> AAAND:  
\- Hira made a trailer video thingy for this story! :) You can watch it here: [if the world stops turning trailer](https://twitter.com/narangsalja/status/1201095140728639488)

Suhwan closed his car trunk with a loud thump. He then looked over at the stack of files near his feet and sighed. He would need to ask for extra compensation from Byungchan after his willingness to do this— delivering a bunch of files, stacked neatly by yours only, Choi Suhwan, at 9 PM. He shook his head, picked up the stack of files, and entered the apartment complex. 

He could only mumble complaints and angry rants under his breath as he made his way up the stairs, stumbled once, and arrived at Byungchan’s apartment door. The short journalist struggled to free his left hand, finally managing to hold his stack of files single-handedly after a minute. He was about to knock on the door when it suddenly opened, revealing the culprit who made him do all this. 

Byungchan opened his mouth without the need to be prompted. "How can I ever repay you?"

“Getting these files out of my hands and helping me could be the first step,” Suhwan answered. The taller man immediately swooped all of the files easily from Suhwan’s hands.

“I take it you got all of the files I asked you to?” Byungchan asked as he made his way to the coffee table, gently placing the files along with all the other ones already scattered on top.

“News about the Cho Family charity events, the transcript for their interviews, and any news related to the Cho Family both from our company, several other companies, and a bunch of questionable small magazines that already went bankrupt,” Suhwan answered simply, his eyes following Byungchan’s movements.

The latter had already pulled one of the files from Suhwan’s stack and laid them out on his bed.

“Also, you should be thankful that our publishing company has a pretty organized filing system," Suhwan continued. "The old newspaper and magazines from the library took the most time." He closed the door and scanned Byungchan’s small studio apartment, scrunching his nose in disgust.

First of all, the apartment was a mess. Not a nasty mess, but a _ mess, _mess. There were files and papers scattered everywhere in the room; from the top of the coffee table to the sofa and kitchen counters. Two open and running laptops took over the dining table while some of the papers and sticky notes with scribbled writings covered a huge pinboard. The board itself covered the windows, and Suhwan couldn’t help but think of how that would block the sunlight in the mornings. He let out a sigh as he picked up some ruffled papers near him and tossed it into the trash bin.

“Gosh, do you even clean?” Suhwan muttered. He was in the middle of picking up more papers that were scattered on the floor when Byungchan spoke up.

“I will charge you one month of beer tabs if you throw those papers away,” Byungchan warned in a teasing tone. Suhwan rolled his eyes, but he knew Byungchan was actually serious about it, so the younger journalist stood up in defeat. 

“Almost a week since your investigation started, huh?” Suhwan asked as he plopped his body on the sofa. "Any progress?"

Byungchan, who was busy reading some documents with the police insignia in his right hand and a book in his left hand, looked up at Suhwan before letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m getting somewhere, I think.”

Suhwan mirrored the sigh at the sight of Byungchan. With folded arms, he started the same lecture he had told Byungchan a few other times before. “You know, your obsession is getting unhealthy, Byungchan. You said the same thing too many times and still ended up nowhere.”

Byungchan chose to say nothing and returned his attention to the things in his hands instead. 

“Tell me. Did you _ really _find a lead?” Suhwan asked again. A hint of worry could be heard in his voice.

“I did find a lead, yeah,” Byungchan said as he looked up at Suhwan. “Your police contact really helped me in placing information together, so thanks.” 

Byungchan continued his answer, this time with a grin. 

“He gave some case files that matched with the information I was looking for and—”

“Wait, hold on,” Suhwan said, cutting Byungchan’s words. The taller man furrowed his eyebrows, confusion apparent on his face. “He gave you some case files?” 

Byungchan nodded slowly. Suhwan didn’t buy any of it.

“Choi Byungchan. Did Detective Song Yuvin give or did _ not _give you case files?” Suhwan repeated the question. “Because I once asked for a case file and he strictly denied that civilians can have access to police case files, except maybe the ones that are already in the Public Library.” 

Byungchan’s eyes wandered to anywhere but Suhwan, trying to escape his stare. 

Suhwan leaned forward and shot the question. “You took them secretly, didn’t you?”

Byungchan visibly flinched, but he then quickly mumbled an _ “I already copied some of them, I was going to return them tomorrow.” _

Suhwan massaged his temple, contemplating what to do with Byungchan’s reckless antics. He was younger than Byungchan, but sometimes even he himself could not process every action that the older one committed.

He held up his hands in defeat.

“Just promise me, you’ll return them tomorrow," Suhwan stated. "So that Yuvin won’t run after both of our asses. Only yours. Probably." Byungchan chuckled while listening to his coworker’s small rants. 

Suhwan then turned on his heels and began to walk away.

“Suhwan,” Byungchan called. 

The shorter man turned to face him again. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for everything. The files, and your connection. I really owe you," Byungchan said sincerely with a small smile on his face, directed right towards Suhwan.

Suhwan shrugged. “Well, someone has to take care of your dumb and reckless butt.”

“Do you really have to phrase it that way to someone older than you?”

“I only speak the truth,” Suhwan retorted back.

Byungchan laughed. “Go home.” 

Suhwan was about to close the door, but he decided to take a step back and peer through Byungchan’s door. “Choi Byungchan. You can always write about random coconut trees instead of this.”

Byungchan looked at Suhwan with an apologetic look, but at the same time, his eyes were burning with determination. “I have to do this.”

Suhwan huffed and smiled. “Okay. Just... be careful.” 

And Suhwan closed Byungchan’s apartment door. 

When Suhwan closed the door behind him, Byungchan got himself to work again. He picked up one of his laptops and stationed it on top of the coffee table, while he sat himself on the floor, back leaning against the sofa. He dragged the stack of files that Suhwan brought so he could reach them with a stretch of his hand. After taking a deep breath, he started pulling out some papers from the files. 

The first thing that he would always do to any of his resources was to sort them. By titles, by dates, by person. He pouted his lips when he saw the amount of papers he needed to go through. Guess he had to settle with sorting by overall topics for now.

Inside the files were copies of every news related to Cho Seungyoun. Charity news events, interview transcripts (including the ones that his own publishing company did with Cho Seungyoun himself), a couple of allegedly mafia-related news, to old small magazines and newspapers that no one— except people who enjoyed gossip— really read. He divided the files into four big sections: mafia-related news, charities and good deeds, rumors about the Cho Family, and another stack called _ et cetera,_ filled with news articles or gossip magazines that seemed to be swarming with hoax and clickbait.

After he was done sorting, Byungchan began to read carefully. He had already read most of them since a majority were available in the city library. He had always been a fast reader, too. A gift, he would say. Thus, he began circling some of the key points from the articles and scribbled them in his notebook. Dates, locations, and people involved. Anything that might lead him to _ something._

When he was done skimming the files, he began to gather the papers noted with “IMPORTANT” and stood up, bringing them to the huge board that he stationed near the window. The board was a sight to be reckoned with. It was quite full. A huge article cutout of Cho Seungyoun’s in-depth biography from a respectable magazine filled the center of the board. Surrounding it were dozens of news articles, photos, scribbles— all pinned with red tacks. But what stood out the most were the colorful strings from one tack to the other. A blue string connected Seungyoun’s birth date to a picture of his house, a red string connected a news article about the opening of Cho’s fifth orphanage and a scribble of a date. Those and many more.

The board was a visualization of Byungchan’s life for the past two years.

  
  


Byungchan glanced at the clock on his room’s wall. He had been working on sorting, writing, and putting together the information he had into comprehensive material on the board for almost six hours. He cracked his neck, realizing how stiff it was and massaged it gently.

The journalist took a step back, staring at the board that now had more post-it notes, more newspaper cut-outs, and more importantly, a more comprehensive information of the thing he was researching now— proving that Cho Seungyoun had ties with the mafia and his public persona was only a facade that hid the nasty works he had done. 

Byungchan took note that some of the dates overlapped with information that he had in hand, with newspapers and some police databases. For example, how the death of an alcoholic by the name of Mr. Ji Youngjin, who allegedly had ties with the mafia, was seen with one of Cho Seungyoun’s subordinates 24 hours prior to his death. It was written in the police case reports but it looked like the police didn’t investigate it further. 

_ Fishy, _Byungchan thought. Which was why he had cut out the article and pinned it to the board.

It wasn’t the only thing that was fishy. There was a weird sum of money that didn’t make sense from the financial records that Byungchan had managed to pull out from one of the subsidiary companies belonging to Cho Seungyoun. He had to thank Hyunbin who managed to discover that.

“Will this be enough?” Byungchan asked himself as he stared at the board, feeling that something was missing. As if the information was not enough to bring his article to the front page of the _ Daily City News, _ which was what his lecturer wanted him to do. 

Hell, even if Sunho passed this article, what Byungchan had would only bring it to the opinion column— or worse— the gossip column. Byungchan didn’t want that. As both an aspiring journalist and his intention to graduate, he wanted this article to be on the main headline.

Byungchan ruffled his head in a stressed-out manner as he took another step back, his long legs knocking over a stack of books behind him. Byungchan winced at the sound and looked over to see the damage.

His train of thought stopped in its tracks when he noticed the fallen books near his feet.

It was a bunch of old magazines that Suhwan also brought in earlier, probably a couple years old judging by how disheveled they looked. The ones that nobody would read because it contained more nonsense gossip and hoax news than credible and comprehensive, actual information that Byungchan was looking for. 

Curiously, Byungchan reached out for one of the magazines and opened it. The page landed on an article about a “scoop” of the Cho Family heir. Byungchan snorted at the word “scoop”.

“How could a small magazine like this have scoop information about the Cho Family heir?” he laughed to himself.

However, the information that he read was_ indeed _a scoop.

The magazine interviewed an old detective who was discharged due to bad behavior and a history of substance abuse, according to the reports and news. 

“However,” Byungchan said, talking to himself. “The detective claimed that he was actually fired because he disobeyed a direct order from the Head of the Police.”

The detective then told the magazine how he was involved in a secret task force to take down the mafia while telling the story. He elaborated his in-depth analysis and deduction that the Cho Family might have been deep in the mafia world, especially in the drugs area. Every evidence that the detective claimed to have found pointed to the said area. However, it wasn't a surprise that the detective would find that, the next day, the evidence had been tampered with and compromised. 

Byungchan read out the article, absorbing every word.

_ “‘I was doing a stake-out at a warehouse near the 78th Street when my boss suddenly came and apprehended me,' informed Mr. Ji Youngjin. He then—_ Wait. Ji Youngjin...?” Byungchan immediately snapped to the board. His eyes landed on the familiar name: _ Ji Youngjin. _ According to the official newspaper, Ji Youngjin was murdered. He was reported as a civilian who had ties with the mafia, not as a detective. Different from what the magazine said.

“Holy shit," Byungchan breathed out and immediately pulled out his pen. He scribbled down the new information that he had just found. “So this Ji Youngjin was actually a detective?”

He carefully ripped out the pages from the magazine, just as carefully pinning them onto the board. One of the pages contained a black and white photo of the warehouse, and Byungchan couldn’t help but think that the lack of color made it look rather menacing.

Byungchan then examined the rest of the stack of magazines that he knocked over earlier. The rest of the magazines were total garbage and he found no new information relevant to his investigation. Sure, they did mention some of the fishy news about the Cho Family, whether it was Cho Seungyoun himself or Cho Seungyoun’s father, but for Byungchan, those weren’t new information. He already had all of that.

He grabbed onto the first magazine, the one about this brave Detective Ji Youngjin, and flipped through the pages. His eye caught a glimpse of the release date of the volume. _ 12th of July. _Two years ago.

Eyebrows raised, Byungchan grabbed his phone and called Suhwan.

His friend didn’t pick up immediately. He waited patiently, though his fingers were getting skittish, fiddling with the magazine in his hand.

But after a few rings, Suhwan answered the call. His voice sounded groggy.

_ “Hello...?” _

“Suhwan! Do you have more of the magazines you gave me earlier? ‘Cause I can’t find anymore volumes of it here.”

_ “Byungchan, it’s 3 a.m. in the morning.” _

“Yeah, sorry about this.”

_ “Nah, it’s fine. Just know that you owe me more drinks later. Are you talking about those shady magazines?” _

“Yeah.”

_ “I gave you all of the volumes. That’s all of them.” _

“But... it looked like one of the articles was really getting onto something. Like there should be more to it. There has to be a continuation in the next volume, right?”

_ “Nope. What’s the latest volume you have there?” _

“Volume 13.”

_ “Yup. That’s the last one that the company published.” _

“But that’s two years ago.”

_ “And it’s the very last one.” _

“Huh.” The gears were turning in Byungchan’s head. He then nodded to himself, already starting to draw a hunch. “Okay. I see. Thanks, Suhwan.”

_ “Byungchan.” _

“Yeah?”

_“Get some sleep, for God’s sak_e.”

“I will later. Goodnight."

Suhwan let out a worried sigh._ “Goodnight.” _

The line went dead and the room lulled back into its original silence. Perhaps, Byungchan could hear the crickets outside.

“So,” he then whispered. His voice was soft, but it sounded loud in the quiet room. “The interview with this Detective Ji Youngjin was the magazine’s very last volume before it was discontinued.”

Byungchan opened the magazine directory and, to his surprise, he found out that Cho Seungyoun’s father was written as the person who funded the said publishing company. Byungchan then reached out for other similar magazines, flipping feverishly through the pages. After some not-so-quick research on the internet, he found that the magazine companies had similar fates. All of the magazines that the Cho Family funded suddenly went bankrupt after reporting any bad information or “misleading” news about the Cho Family. 

With a grimace and a beating heart, Byungchan tore all of the articles and pinned them to the board. He then wrote on a separate paper, in big bold letters, _ “MAGAZINES FUNDED BY THE CHO FAMILY”, _ and connected all of the articles to it with red strings. Soon, the board looked even more like a spider’s web, linked in all directions.

A few seconds passed before Byungchan added more words to it, underlining his hunch.

_ MAGAZINES FUNDED _ _ AND POSSIBLY ENDED _ _ BY THE CHO FAMILY_

He stared at the board some more before he thought of something. Perhaps, it was a major lightbulb moment for him.

Tearing his eyes from the clutter on the board, he walked back to the clutter on the floor. He bent down, one hand immediately traveling to a certain book. It was a simple book with a black leather cover and white pages, and it now lay on top of a stack of magazines where he had carefully placed it. He always kept it close to him.

He took it gingerly in his hands, slowly yet urgently turning the pages. He knew where he had to look.

Finally, he found it. His hand hovered over the page, eyes roaming over the words written in ink.

Byungchan then began muttering under his breath, as if he was reciting something he knew very well. In fact, the words were right there on the page and he could have read them. But he knew them all by heart. _ "July 12th. He argued with an old man in front of the park entrance. Something about that old man shows that he's a crazy old man. I wonder what... _it is..." And then he abruptly stopped. He then glanced at the board again, eyes landing on the name of Ji Youngjin. 

“You gotta be kidding me...” Byungchan muttered under his breath as his eyes travelled along the board. "Ji Youngjin was presumed murdered on the 13th of July..."

* * *

Seungyoun took a deep breath, a pair of scissors in his hand. He put strength in his voice, making sure it was heard by all the people around him.

A two-story building was in front of him, a crowd of reporters and audience behind. A normal morning in the life of Cho Seungyoun.

“And with this,” he said, “I officially open this establishment. Let’s hope that all goes well and the kids here can grow up happily and healthily.”

A wooden fence had circled the perimeter of the newly built orphanage, with a red ribbon stretched across the main entrance of the fence. He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a smile towards everyone that had gathered, before facing forward again.

He had caught a quick glimpse of Hangyul, who was standing at a short distance from the crowd. Far enough to ensure that all the attention was on Seungyoun, but close enough to jump in and intervene just in case something unwanted happened. Yohan wasn’t with them for this, but would be joining them in the evening for other schedules. It wasn’t as if this was an event that needed more than a bodyguard, anyway.

Everything was going fine. Everyone in the area seemed friendly enough. But there seemed to be a troubled look on Hangyul’s face. The right-hand man may have tried to look passive, but Seungyoun had been with him long and well enough to know that something bothersome was on Hangyul’s mind.

Seungyoun would have to think about it later. For the moment, he focused on the task at hand.

He let out another dramatic breath and finally cut the ribbon, hearing applause erupted immediately after he did so.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. A female reporter from the local news channel was there, microphone in hand and a cameraman by her side.

“And there we have it,” the reporter said. “Another orphanage opened by the one and only Cho Seungyoun. This is the ninth that he has opened this year, and they’re not located just in this city. In addition to orphanages, there are also many things that Cho Seungyoun had done for the people in need. Now we’re here to talk to him for a bit. Excuse me, Mr. Cho?”

As the reporter approached him, Seungyoun flashed her a smile. “Yes, of course. I’m very open for questions.”

The reporter nodded. “It’s very honorable of you to be doing all of this. These days, people would prefer to use the money for their own needs. For their own gain. But instead, you’re using that money to help people. What drives you to do all this?”

Seungyoun’s smile didn’t falter as he gave his prepared answers. He talked about how he wasn’t a selfish, greedy man and just wanted to help people. How humans should love and care for each other, and not hurt and hate.

He said it all eloquently and in a humble, subtle manner. And perhaps for a split second, he believed in all the words that he was uttering.

Not only did his answer impress the reporter, but it impressed the crowd too. He heard people let out grateful sighs. Some murmured how he was an inspiring figure, and how they wished their kids grew up just like Cho Seungyoun.

He answered a few more questions, easily gave his answers, and finally the reporter thanked him and wrapped up the news.

The crowd applauded once more as Seungyoun gave a courteous bow. He finally began to leave the area, away from the crowd and cameras.

Hangyul was by his side, making sure no one invaded Seungyoun’s personal space as he walked. Some of the people were stubborn, trying to get closer to Seungyoun and perhaps shake his hand. They were given a sharp glare from the bodyguard, and they were quick to back down.

It was a relief to make it to the parking lot and climb into their car just as quickly. Hangyul quickly drove out of there, glimpsing at the rearview mirror to see a few people were still at the gates of the parking area, as if they had followed Seungyoun until the very last second.

Seungyoun sat beside him on the passenger’s seat, leaning heavily against the chair.

The sun was still high up in the sky, he had a full schedule ahead of him, and Seungyoun was already feeling tired.

When the people from charity events look at Cho Seungyoun, they see an angel.

They see a man who was kind, generous, and caring. He had donated more than a large amount of money to many institutions that helped society. He even had some built in his name. 

He had a sweet, warm smile. The type of smile that made people feel happy, safe, and smile in return. He was loved and adored for his kindness and wonderful personality.

Cho Seungyoun was an angel. But behind closed doors, he was different. 

When the crowd was gone and the cameras were out of sight, the smile would fade. The warmth would disappear from his eyes.

All of that was replaced by a sharp gaze and a cold, intimidating aura. Sometimes, it even looked like he was ready to kill someone right there on the spot.

Lee Hangyul was one of the few people in the world who was a witness to the switching of Seungyoun’s persona. Perhaps, he was the one who witnessed it the most. After all, Hangyul had been by Seungyoun’s side ever since they were kids, growing up together.

And Hangyul knew that, as Seungyoun got older, the mafia heir had gotten better and smarter at what he did. He knew how to use sweet words to woo the public, and he also knew how to use threats and taunts that hurt his enemies.

This was one of those times. At the charity event, Seungyoun had the most charming and warmest smile on his face. He spoke in his soft voice that made people’s hearts flutter. By the time Seungyoun left the event, Hangyul, who was nearby to keep an eye on his boss, could hear people chattering about how kind Cho Seungyoun was.

Now here they were, in the car with its tinted windows that hid them from the world outside. Away from the cameras and the crowd, Hangyul turned to his boss and said, “I have information about the Twin Citadel situation.”

And there it was. The change in Seungyoun’s face. The smile faded. His eyes lost their warmth. He looked cold. Scary, even.

Seungyoun drew in a small breath. “What is it?”

“I’ll explain it in detail later tonight, after your meeting,” Hangyul answered, eyes on the road. “But the point is, something serious is really going on. With Lee Dongwook gone, ‘ownership’ of the Twin Citadel is vague. Too vague. Sooner or later, those who hold what is pretty much co-ownership would decide to step forward.”

The older man’s gaze on him, Hangyul continued.

“There’s going to be a shareholder meeting, Seungyoun.”

Seungyoun drew in another breath. “I guess that was expected. And I can guess who’ll be there.”

“You,” Hangyul said. “Han.”

Something dangerous flashed in Seungyoun’s eyes at the mention of Han Seungwoo.

“Park too,” Hangyul finished. “Park Yuri. And Kwak. Speaking of those two, there’s something going on between them. It’s as if they’re... planning something together.”

“Doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t sound good at all.”

"So this is why you were looking so troubled."

"Was I?"

"Yeah. I know you, Hangyul. Don't worry. Things will be fine."

Hangyul nodded. "Let's hope so."

“We’ll continue this discussion later." Seungyoun said, running a hand through his own hair. A little habit he did whenever stress started to get to him. “Let’s meet in my room tonight. I think this will take a long time to discuss. I’ll get us a lot of coffee.”

“Right. Business like this would take a long time.” Even as Hangyul said those words, he could see something else in Seungyoun’s eyes when their gaze met. A glint of something.

The air suddenly felt a little thick.

Perhaps talking about business wouldn’t be the only thing they would do tonight.

  
  


* * *

It was afternoon when a teenager pushed the door of the apartment while whistling a song. He wore a hoodie and training pants, a bag flung over his shoulders. It was big and messy but nevertheless high school-appropriate. The teenager hopped a few stairs as he went up and stopped when he reached his destination.

The teenager reached into his pocket and pulled out some keys. He easily turned the knob and opened the door of the said apartment room.

“I’m here, Byungchan! What do you need me for?” Kim Hyunbin, the teenager, announced as he closed the door behind him, locking it. Byungchan, who was sitting in front of his laptop, gave Hyunbin a quick nod and turned his attention back to his laptop.

“I heard you fucked up,” Hyunbin commented easily and Byungchan snorted. 

“Hello to you too, Hyunbin, but I would appreciate if you don’t use any crude language in my house,” Byungchan commented back, eyes never leaving the laptop.

“What do you need from me?” Hyunbin asked as he approached Byungchan. He stole a glance of the surrounding rooms, where papers and files were all scattered on the floor, tables, even sofa and bed.

“I uploaded some files to this laptop, I need you to arrange them and sort them by dates of the files," Byungchan said, taking out a USB flash drive and handing it to his friend. "After that, can you transfer all of them into some encryption-ish thing and placed it into this USB?”

“Yeah sure. For what?”

“Collateral,” Byungchan answered simply. 

Hyunbin shrugged and did what he was asked to. Years of friendship with Byungchan had taught him not to question what the older man did.

Or he would get a _ massive _ headache. 

  
  


Suhwan came again during his lunch break. Figuring that his friends wouldn’t even come out from the room until Byungchan found any leads, he decided to bring some lunch. 

“Suhwan!” Hyunbin beamed when he saw the shorter man enter the apartment, carrying a few boxes of Chinese take-outs. Suhwan put the boxes on a nearby coffee table after pushing some papers away, ignoring Byungchan cries of _ ‘Don’t touch them!’. _

Hyunbin leapt off his chair and went straight to the coffee table. Byungchan followed suit. 

“I knew it. You haven’t eaten,” Suhwan commented when both Hyunbin and Byungchan took their Chinese take-outs respectively. Both boys ignored the comment and proceeded to eat.

Suhwan sat in front of his friends who were now eating with gusto. He then opened his mouth.

“Hey, Hyunbin. Did you know that your beloved friend here stole police case files?” Suhwan asked and pointed to Byungchan. The journalist was still devouring his meal. 

“Yup. He called me earlier today," Hyunbin answered easily. "Said he fucked up big time and wanted me here so I could help him."

Suhwan made a noise of agreement before turning to Byungchan again. “You really need to take care of yourself," he complained. "Why don’t you find yourself a girlfriend or partner who’ll feed you?” Lightly, he hit Byungchan’s thigh with a rolled newspaper.

“Byungchan also fell asleep on top of some magazines last night,” Hyunbin said. “On the floor.”

“It was unintentional,” Byungchan quickly clarified.

Suhwan just sighed. “You own a bed for a reason, you know. I’m guessing you barely got any sleep, then.”

Byungchan was about to return a witty comment at Suhwan’s remark. But it was then that he noticed the headline news on the rolled newspaper that Suhwan smacked him with.

_ Police Raided An Empty Building at the 78th Street : To Prevent the Place from Turning into a Drug Deal Den, Detectives said _

Byungchan snatched the newspaper from the younger man and opened it. He read the news carefully before examining the date that was issued. It was a one-week old newspaper. 

He couldn’t help but crack a laughter. He couldn’t believe it. It was the same warehouse where Detective Ji Youngjin did his dangerous stakeout.

“Hyunbin. Quick. Can you look up the owner of the warehouse at the 78th?” Byungchan suddenly asked.

Hyunbin and Suhwan looked at each other before the teenager reached out for a laptop and did what he was told. 

“It was inherited to a person whose name is...” Hyunbin squinted as he stared at the screen. “Kim Yohan.”

“Kim Yohan,” Byungchan muttered under his breath. It wasn’t a familiar name to him.

Suhwan seemed to read his mind. “There’s a lot of Kim Yohans out there.” He held out his phone to Byungchan, scrolling down where the same name appeared over and over again. “I tried narrowing the search to just Kim Yohan and the warehouse, but I found nothing.”

“Okay...” Byungchan then stood up, walking over to the board. He stuck the newspaper article right next to the magazine page, circling the words _ warehouse _ and _ the 78th. _ “Hyunbin, I need you to hack into the city’s database. Look for identification cards, driver’s license, _ anything _ with Kim Yohan within this city. I need a picture.”

“On it.”

“Thanks, Hyunbin.”

Byungchan followed one of the strings that connected a photograph of Cho Seungyoun and a sticky note where Byungchan scribbled_ ‘ACCOMPLICES’. _

From the sticky note, there were two strings going in different directions. One of them led to a photo of a man with strong features and a sharp gaze. He was made known to the public. _ Lee Hangyul. _Cho Seungyoun’s trusted bodyguard that accompanied his boss on every public occasion. Naturally, Hangyul ended up in a lot of pictures and videos with Seungyoun, since they were never that far apart.

_ But if he’s involved in all the mafia business, _ Byungchan thought. _ Then this Lee Hangyul could be more than just a bodyguard. _

He could ponder about that later, putting his hand on another string that led to what seemed to be a paparazzi photograph.

In the photograph, Cho Seungyoun stood in front of a black car with tinted windows. He had bent down to speak to the driver, the car’s window rolled down.

Sitting in the driver’s seat was a young man with black hair. Not knowing who this mysterious young man was, Byungchan had drawn a huge question mark next to him.

Byungchan knew that he was pushing his luck. But _ what if...? _

Hyunbin’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Okay, I found some driver’s licenses. I’ll send them to your phone.”

A loud notification rang through the air. Byungchan fished out his phone from his pocket and opened the files from Hyunbin. There _ were _a lot, but he would take his time to get through them if it meant that he would have a lead.

Byungchan held up his phone right next to the photograph with the mysterious man. Eyes staring intensely as he went through the files, he compared the photos from the driver’s licenses and the photograph.

It didn’t take too long for Byungchan’s thumb to stop swiping. He had found the driver’s license of a man two years younger than him. Dark hair, droopy eyes, plump lips, along with other distinguishable features. 

He kept looking back and forth between the photo in his phone and the man in the car.

The same. It was the same person.

Byungchan smiled. Almost even laughed. He couldn't believe his luck. He took a string in his hands, pinning one end to the photo of the warehouse, and the other right next to Kim Yohan's head. "I've got you now."

"What is it?" Suhwan asked.

With long strides, Byungchan grabbed a red pen from the table. His two friends climbed to their feet and joined him at the board.

Grinning, Byungchan drew a large circle around the warehouse. He then made more strokes, going around and around, thickening the circle.

"This," he said, "is where we need to go."

* * *

Seungsik leaned against the large front door of Han’s mansion. His eyes scanned the black BMW arriving in their driveway. A young man in his twenties stepped down from the car with a frown etched on his face.

“Kang Seungsik,” the man greeted. Seungsik nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“Heo Chan,” he greeted back. “No good news?”

The man, Chan, sighed and shook his head. Seungsik tapped his shoulder and led him through the mansion’s hallway, Chan following closely behind him.

When they took some turns, Chan lifted an eyebrow in question. “This is not the way to the heir’s office," he said.

Seungsik laughed without a single hint of mirth. He turned around and patted Chan’s back. “You don’t want to bring bad news to his room right now. I’ll hear it instead."

Chan did not look satisfied with the answer. If any, his frown got deeper. “I was ordered to report it directly to the heir of Han, Seungsik,” he argued. “I still love my head and want no holes in it.”

Seungsik shook his head and chose to ignore Chan’s words. He continued walking and finally stopped in front of a huge white door. It was the door to an office. Definitely smaller than Seungwoo’s, but nonetheless fancy. Seungsik’s office.

He opened the door and nudged his head, signaling Chan to go inside.

“Trust me. You’ll keep your head safer this way.”

  
  


Seungsik downed a glass of wine as he re-read the files Heo Chan, Han’s private informant, gave him. The man had left. He was only supposed to be there to give an update on the Twin Citadel, but the files in his hand contained other bad news. There was a huge fuck up in a deal with foreign investors. The supplies traded were late to arrive by _ three weeks__._ The investors cut around half of the supposed payment as compensation. The deal was big. They lost a significant amount of money. The worst part was that the supply was _ ready _the whole time. The delivery got delayed because of a miscommunication in the orders from the person in charge. In other words, the only reason was tardiness and nothing else. It was a fault from the Han Family’s side and Seungwoo would not love that. 

Seungsik massaged the bridge of his nose. The case was so _ stupid._ But Seungwoo was not in his greatest mood and this could lead to something bigger than he would like.

At the end of the day, Seungsik was, well, Seungsik. Seungwoo’s right-hand man who needed to assist Seungwoo in any decision that he made. 

So he poured another glass of wine, downed it, and headed towards Seungwoo’s office.

  
  


“Weekly update?” Sejun asked when he saw Seungsik walk closer to Seungwoo’s office. Sejun was stationed right outside, as usual. Seungsik waved the envelope with Chan’s files as an answer.

“He’s in a bad mood right now,” Sejun warned.

“I’m aware.”

“No, he’s in a _ bad _mood. I don’t think you want to deal with him.”

Seungsik sighed and leaned against the wall right next to Sejun.

“What happened exactly?” Seungsik asked.

“Honestly? Not sure.” Sejun offered him a cigarette, which Seungsik took. He lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

“Is it that assassin?”

Sejun frowned. “Kim Wooseok? Maybe.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “He hasn’t been here since the last time. But now that I think of it, Boss’s face was not exactly happy at that time too,” he continued. “Who knows what’s going on in his mind. Still can’t read him.”

Seungsik hummed. He didn’t feel the need to reinstate that he, too, had not gotten a grasp on how to read Han Seungwoo. Even after years of being his closest subordinate. He took a long last drag of his cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray sitting above the trash can.

“Alright, time to deal with him,” Seungsik said.

“Now?”

“I have a pretty urgent update on The Twin. Also about that useless bastard.”

Sejun’s face twisted in disgust. “Shit, the deal in the North?”

“Yeah, the one that Park handled.”

“Rough.”

Seungsik couldn’t help but laugh. He ruffled Sejun’s hair. “And that’s why I need to deliver the news now.”

Sejun huffed as he tried to fix his hair. “Good luck then, I’ll prepare some men to wipe the blood,” he said in a joking manner.

But it wasn’t a joke. Not quite. Both of them knew that depending on how bad Seungwoo’s mood was right then, there _ would _be blood to wipe.

“Hope I don’t have to wipe yours,” Sejun added, almost like an afterthought.

Now that was a dangerous joke. But Seungsik laughed at that.

“Thanks,” Seungsik replied. “Same goes to you, buddy.”

“Seungwoo,” Seungsik greeted.

Seungwoo was sitting behind his desk; an old-style cigar in his left hand and a glass of Chardonnay in his right. His eyes were fixed on the screen before him, scanning. Seungsik guessed he was reading some updates through private messages. He didn’t know for sure, but something in the air forced him to look at his shoes instead of Seungwoo. 

Seungwoo did not bother to answer Seungsik’s greeting.

“Speak,” he ordered curtly. Seungsik hid his sigh.

_ There will be blood, _he thought.

“I have updates on the Twin Citadel,” Seungsik started. “You were right. Park Yuri has something up his sleeve.”

Seungwoo said nothing, so Seungsik took it as a sign to continue.

“Heo Chan gave me some info about a proposed revision of the shareholder agreement from Kwak’s side.”

Seungwoo lifted an eyebrow.

“He was Lee’s puppet. Now that Lee’s gone, he’s technically the full owner. Heo Chan suspects an underhanded deal going on between Park Yuri and Kwak. He spotted him a few times near Kwak’s condo with a different car than usual. Definitely not a sign of normal meetings.” Seungsik took a deep breath. “I’ll contact Lee Jinhyuk tomorrow. His information should complete the missing pieces. Heo Chan does not have direct access to Park like he does.”

Seungwoo took a drag of his cigarette. His frown was apparent. “Kwak’s gonna call a shareholder meeting, isn’t he?"

“Yes,” Seungsik answered. “Most probably.”

“Date estimation?”

“Around this week or next week.”

Seungwoo hummed. His eyes were back to whatever was displayed on his screen when he seemed to notice that Seungsik made no move to leave the room.

“Anything else?” he asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Update on the Northern deal.” 

Seungwoo’s face visibly turned darker, but then serene for the next second. Seungsik gulped. He would take a frowning Seungwoo any day than this one. Too much possibility of what’s going on in his mind. Too dangerous.

“We couldn’t chase the cut payment because the mistake was... from our side of the deal,” Seungsik explained. Seungwoo got up from his seat and walked around his desk, only to lean on it as he downed the Chardonnay.

“What mistake? _ I _helped with the supplies.”

Seungsik carefully handed the envelope in his hand to Seungwoo. He hurriedly stepped back to where he stood before, right near the door. He trusted Seungwoo, after all these years, but his entire being begged for a safe escape route. This particular case was so, _ so, stupid._

“It’s a delay in the delivery," Seungsik began to explain. "You can find the email logs for the warehouse in that envelope. The warehouse did not get the standard shipment info until they asked for it. You can check the warehouse schedule too. It was packed. The info came too late.”

Seungwoo skimmed the papers in his hand. The Chardonnay glass was put down on his desk and his cigar’s ash dropped on the floor. Seungsik involuntarily winced.

“They should have enough time. This is a code 3 deal. The warehouse knows the priority list.”

Seungsik sighed and leaned on the wall. He could feel a headache growing from his spine. Meanwhile, Seungwoo was still silent.

“The person in charge gave it a code 1 instruction.” 

Seungsik could hear the sound of papers being crumpled. _ Winced _ at it. 

“The North. Park Chanwook?” Seungwoo asked.

Seungsik nodded. His eyes were trained on his shoes but he could feel Seungwoo’s little movements. A few steps, back and forth. Seungsik was about to open his mouth to ask what action they should take next when the sound of a dart arrow hitting a target cut him off.

The target was on the other end of the wall. Seungwoo had thrown the dart without moving an inch from the front of his desk.

“This is not his first fuck up, isn’t it, Seungsik?” Seungwoo asked. His voice was calm, but it ran a shiver down Seungsik’s spine. “He had done this multiple times. Multiple errors. Tiny ones, big ones. And all he does is hide in his condo, snorting his free Cocaine and letting his subordinates do the rest.”

Seungwoo dropped his cigar and crushed it with his feet, not minding the fact that it was _ his _office floor he did that on. 

“Why so?” Seungwoo made an act of pondering. “Is it because I don’t meet him often? Say hi and make sure he knows which family he represents?”

Seungsik didn’t give any answer. He couldn’t.

“Last year, a few months back, and now this,” Seungwoo continued. “Enough is enough, don’t you think?”

Seeing that Seungsik had no answer for him, Seungwoo took a few steps towards him. Seungsik flinched and cleared his throat, hopefully as an answer.

“Don’t you think?” Seungwoo repeated.

“If you think so, then yes,” Seungsik answered. 

Seungwoo smiled, calm and collected.

“Give Sejun his address.”

“Alright, Seungwoo.”

  
  


Seungsik had seen Seungwoo for a long time. Seungsik was there when Seungwoo was five, asking for candy after dinner. Seungsik was there when Seungwoo first shot someone, in the stomach, a non-lethal blow because he was scared. Seungsik had seen, had been with Seungwoo for so long, but he wouldn’t ever get used to _ this _Seungwoo.

The ride to Park Chanwook’s condo was quiet. Seungsik shared a few glances with Sejun, who drove them to the address. They could see Seungwoo from the rearview mirror. He seemed relaxed. _ Too _relaxed for both of their likings. 

Both of them knew about this Seungwoo. He got like this from time to time, when he encountered nasty predicaments. Seungsik and Sejun had seen what Seungwoo, in a state and a case like this, would do. 

Seungwoo was a calm and collected person by default. He did not deal with _ punishments _ often. He would leave that to his subordinates. Sejun dealt with some, Seungsik used to. These days some of their people specialized in punishments. Or, what the Han Family liked to call, _ atonement._

Han Seungwoo rarely got his hands dirty. He was calm. Too calm that sometimes people forgot about his status as the head of Han Family. A family who would not think twice to brew a war if needed.

Everything happened like a movie, in Seungsik’s point of view. 

It had always felt like a movie.

When Seungwoo broke the door of the condo and fired three warning shots to the glasses of champagne lining up in Park’s kitchen pantry, the sound of shattered glasses piercing his ears. When Park Chanwook opened his bedroom door, only clad in a white shirt and a pair of boxers. When Seungwoo fired another three shots to the table with Cocaine spread on top of it, breaking the glass surface. When the four girls in the condo screamed and ran towards the door. Seungwoo fired another two shots towards them. One got in someone’s leg. She screamed as her friends tried to pick her up. When they scrambled and struggled to leave the condo, Seungsik gave way to them. Sejun, who was waiting on the outside, would do the same. 

As long as Seungwoo did not give them an order, their only job was to watch. A bystander. An audience.

Seungsik watched in silence as Park Chanwook begged on his knees, seemingly aware of what he did wrong. He blabbered incoherent sentences about code 1 and code 3 and other bullshit that Seungsik knew would only irritate Seungwoo further. He cried and begged and talked about how he would accept his fate as long as Seungwoo wouldn’t touch his family. Seungsik didn’t even know he had a family.

Chanwook sounded pitiful, but Seungsik had learned to leave his heart behind. Like what Seungwoo had done from a long time ago.

_ The Han Family values bonds, we treat each other as family, _ Seungwoo once said with a smoking revolver in his hand. _ But in front of a broken bond, the Hans are mafia. And remember, Seungsik, a mafia never thinks with their heart. _

And so, like the hundreds of movies that Seungsik had seen with Seungwoo as the lead, he heard two shots. 

One shot in the head and another in the heart.

That was how Han Seungwoo kills. 

No extra bullet, no less. No matter what your sins were, how badly you wanted to live, how badly you wanted to die, the ending would always be the same. Two shots and a dead body. 

A pool of red blood formed underneath the body. The strong scent of iron weaved through the air.

It had always made something in him tremble. Something close to fear. Seungwoo made every death the same. Every wound, every sin. 

It made Seungsik wonder about whether one day he would end up that way too.

Then like an epilogue, Seungwoo would put his gun back in the inside of his pristine suit.

“Clean them up,” he would say.

Then Sejun would go to wherever the body was, sometimes with extra men, other times alone. Then Seungsik would close the door and leave Sejun there, never really knowing how exactly Sejun cleaned everything up. He would drive Seungwoo back to the mansion.

The movie would end. Case closed. 

They would never bring the matter up again.

* * *

The night started to dawn on the damp city. The smell of rain lingered in the air. Seungyoun sighed and threw his head back on the car’s headrest. Charity days were some of the longest. All he wanted to do was to head back to his mansion, take a bath, spend time with Hangyul along with their discussion about the Citadel, and sleep. Yet unfortunately, he still had one destination left in his schedule for today.

He closed his eyes as he heard Yohan and Hangyul’s small banter. None of them were driving tonight. Hangyul sat on the passenger seat and Yohan sat next to Seungyoun in the backseat. Their banter sounded like white noise for Seungyoun. His mind involuntary wander to the charity event today. It reminded him a lot about the past. How he used to hate accompanying his father to those events. About how he used to sneak out and look for some food near the area instead. About how he would afterwards try to find that warm smile— 

“We’re here,” Hangyul said, cutting his thoughts. Seungyoun hummed as he straightened in his seat. He glanced out the window. They were in a driveway of a relatively huge house. A familiar place for him since the past few years. He stepped down the car and waited for Yohan and Hangyul.

Yohan was the one who knocked on the door. It didn’t take long before the door was opened. A man in his fifties welcomed him inside.

“Mr. Cho, it’s a pleasure to see you,” the man said.

“The house is pretty quiet,” Seungyoun remarked. He took a seat on the sofa, right across the man. Hangyul stood right behind him while Yohan stood near the entrance door.

“Ah, yes. As you know, this isn’t my main house,” the man replied as he signaled a housemaid, a young woman, to serve some refreshments.

“Yes, of course,” Seungyoun said. “Don’t want to welcome a mafia in the main household I suppose.”

The man flinched at the subtle jab. If he had felt insulted though, he didn’t show it. The smile stayed on his face.

“You know it’s an act of precaution, Mr. Cho.”

“Yes, I’m aware and rather grateful for that... Police Deputy Chief, Im Joohwan.”

The smile on Im’s face faltered for a quick second, before finding its way back.

“Please, stop with the title and the formalities,” he said in a sweet tone. The kind that made Seungyoun’s stomach churn. At that time, the housemaid was back with four glasses of tea and cookies. “Have a drink, Mr. Cho. What brings you here tonight?”

Seungyoun smiled but made no gesture of drinking the tea or eating the cookies. Rule eight of surviving, don’t consume anything a potential enemy gave you. Even if they were your ally for the moment.

“It’s nothing much, just our monthly check-ups. I’ve heard about something going on with my warehouse in the South?” Seungyoun nudged. “You have some brave men.”

Im cleared his throat and put his teacup down. He straightened the wrinkles on his sleeves and rubbed his neck. Anxious. Seungyoun knew the man was fully aware about how bad this situation could go for him. Three armed high-ranked mafias in his living room. He _ should _be anxious.

“Mr. Cho, I believe I heard that the warehouse wasn’t a main hub? Was I wrong?” he asked. He kept tapping his feet. 

“And if it isn’t?”

Im gulped and cleared his throat once more. His feet kept tapping. “Mr. Cho,” he started carefully. “We... I mean, the police, have... a name and reputation to keep.”

Im glanced at Seungyoun, who kept his face straight.

“The raid was done as a closure to an investigation. It actually helped cutting the ties before it gets to _ you. _ The case was closed early, the officers did their job, and since the warehouse was not a main hub, your name was nowhere in the media,” Im continued. “I do believe keeping both of our names clean was part of our... _agreement."_

Seungyoun struggled not to laugh. The authorities in the country were so _ stupid._ Blinded by money and power. Integrity had long been gone from their code of conduct. Im was still tapping his feet. The anxious sound of his heels irritated Seungyoun.

“Very well, Chief.” Seungyoun said. He leaned forward and stared directly into Im’s eyes. The man froze. With a straight face, Seungyoun continued his words. “Just trying to make sure that you still know the _ lines. _”

Because that was how mafia worked. How _ Cho _ worked. They bought people with money, fame, and power. Authorities were nothing more than another business deal. Rule of surviving number five: make sure that each party knows the drawn line, _ force _the other party to stand far behind the line while Cho themselves tread dangerously near the line. That was the dynamic they needed to keep. 

“Check your bank account, Im.” Seungyoun stood up from his seat. Im followed as a form of respect. Seungyoun didn’t see it, though. He walked to the entrance door without looking back, the sound of Im’s feet still echoing in his mind. “See you next month,” he said before stepping out from Im’s living room completely, three cup of teas and cookies left untouched.

  
  


* * *

True to Seungyon’s words, he and Hangyul did discuss business.

Hot cups of coffee in their hands, they both sat on one end of Seungyoun’s bed. It was already late at night by the time Hangyul had finished relaying all the information to his boss.

Seungyoun’s cup of coffee was empty by then. He had absorbed every bit of information. Every detail. Every word. When it came to work, he was as serious as can be.

“Damn,” Seungyoun then muttered. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting the Citadel fall into their hands.”

“We really need to be prepared.”

“You’re right. Hard to predict what Han and Park would say to claim the Citadel. It’s giving me a damn headache just thinking about it.”

“Yohan should come too,” Hangyul suggested. “Just as a precaution.”

“You’ll be enough. It’s just a shareholder meeting. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You really shouldn’t say things that carelessly.”

Seungyoun let out a chuckle. “Perhaps.” He ran a hand through his hair again. But different from before, his hair was free of gel, falling softly over his forehead. He had taken a quick shower upon reaching the mansion, changing out of his formal clothes into more casual and comfortable ones. Just a simple white T-shirt and short black pants that barely reached his knees.

It was ridiculous, but Hangyul suddenly felt overdressed. In contrast to his boss, Hangyul still wore the same clothes that he had on for the charity event and the whole schedule that day. The formal, neat suit. He and Yohan wasted no time when they stepped into the mansion, immediately heading to Yohan’s room to look up any more extra information and discuss things before delivering it to Seungyoun.

“Also,” Hangyul continued, chasing away his thoughts. “Me and Yohan think that the possibilities of everything being solved in a single meeting is low. I mean, this is _ the _ Twin Citadel, after all.”

“None of us will back down,” Seungyoun said with a sigh.

“Right.”

Seungyoun was staring at his empty cup of coffee. Then he let himself fall to the side, laying his head on Hangyul’s shoulder.

If it was anyone else, Hangyul’s battle instincts would have kicked in and he would have shoved the person as far away as he could. But this was Seungyoun, who had done this and more to him many times. So it wasn’t a surprise and Seungyoun didn’t get punched in the face.

“I really think Yohan should come,” Hangyul continued, as if his boss wasn’t pressed to his side.

“Right.” Seungyoun leaned in closer, nuzzling against his right-hand man’s neck.

Hangyul tried to ignore him. “Yohan’s very alert and could offer help regarding the situation. He did a lot of research on the Citadel too. Not to mention that he’s an excellent fighter.”

Seungyoun’s next reply was muffled as he started to nibble at the expanse of skin that wasn’t blocked by the collar of Hangyul’s suit. He pulled back a little, mumbling _ “I’ll think about it” _before leaning back in and continuing.

“I thought we were going to discuss business,” Hangyul said bluntly, keeping a nonchalant face. Even as Seungyoun began trailing small kisses down his neck.

“And we did. That’s all there is to discuss right?” Seungyoun’s breath was hot against his skin. “We could still discuss more at the same time, too. If you want.”

Hangyul had expected this. Tried to convince himself that he didn’t hope for it. But Seungyoun was at it again, and Hangyul knew that he wouldn’t end up complaining.

“Unless you just really want to talk business,” Seungyoun then said, pulling back.

Hangyul had glanced down to look at his boss. Their faces being so close together was not a rare occurrence, but it would be a lie if he said that it didn’t make him feel... things.

Seungyoun always made sure to match Hangyul's pace. They had a mutual respect for each other— something that they had built over the years.

“At least let me put my damn coffee down or it’ll spill all over your legs,” Hangyul simply said.

A smirk made its way to Seungyoun’s face. “Alright. Could you put mine away too? Thanks.”

Hangyul climbed to his feet, seeing the contrast in their cups of coffee. Seungyoun was a coffee enthusiast, never missing at least one cup in the morning. Having focused on relaying information, Hangyul had only taken a few sips.

He put both cups down on the desk at one end of the room, not wanting them to be knocked over. Beginning to undo the tie around his neck, he turned around to see Seungyoun walking towards him.

Hangyul commented, “You could have put away your own cup if you were gonna come here anyway. You...” His voice trailed off as Seungyoun slowly grasped his hands, pulling them away. With the smile still on his face, Seungyoun tugged off the tie in one go.

“Well, I’m helping you in other things,” the older man said, immediately working on the buttons of Hangyul’s shirt.

It really was like a habit. The impatience. The playfulness. The desperateness. Soon, they were stumbling to the bed. Soon, Hangyul’s back hit the mattress, Seungyoun climbing on top of him.

By then, Seungyoun had coaxed open Hangyul’s mouth, and the latter could taste the coffee on Seungyoun’s tongue. He held onto the back of his boss’s neck, as if grounding himself and keeping himself anchored to reality. Kissing Seungyoun had that effect on him.

Seungyoun then pulled away, apparently happy that there wasn’t a collar_— _ or any clothes, for that matter_— _ that disrupted the small bites and kisses he gave to Hangyul’s skin. 

Hangyul was already breathing heavily when he tried to talk, even as he was attempting to keep his voice steady. “Honestly, though. You need to take precautions.”

“I’ll use a condom, don’t worry.”

Hangyul nearly smacked him in the face. “I _ meant _about the Twin Citadel. You need to be careful when dealing with it.”

“Oh, so you still want to talk business.” And Seungyoun let out a small, breathy laugh. He then pressed a kiss to the younger man’s abs. “You worry too much sometimes. Like I said, it’s just a shareholders meeting.”

“I’ll be armed, anyways,” Hangyul said. “They’ll probably search me to make sure I’m not bringing any weapons. But I can easily hide a pistol just in case— Ah, _ fuck— _” He bit into his fist to stop whatever noise he would have made. Seungyoun was sucking on his inner thigh. One of his most sensitive spots.

When Seungyoun was finished there, he pulled back. Hangyul heard familiar sounds— the sound of Seungyoun tossing his own clothes to the floor, the sound of a tube’s cap being opened, and then the sound of Seungyoun rubbing his fingers together as he warmed up a fair amount of lube in his hand.

“Speaking of weapons,” Seungyoun then said, finding a comfortable position in between Hangyul’s legs. “Imagine what it would be like if we can bring Kim Wooseok. I mean, he’s more or less the ultimate weapon now.”

“It’s hard to get to him. Didn’t he reject your proposal?" Hangyul mumbled, wincing a little when Seungyoun began to insert the first finger. The second followed shortly afterwards, burying deep inside the younger man.

“He did,” Seungyoun answered after a while, watching intently as Hangyul began to grasp at the sheets. “But I told him that I’ll be ready if he changes his mind.”

_ “Ah— _ What if he doesn’t?”

“Well, I’ll just continue to hope.” Seungyoun slipped in another slicked finger, slowly and gently stretching him open. “It would be amazing to have Kim Wooseok on our side. Everyone in the mafia world knows him. He may look soft and pretty— and to an extent, cute— but he’s insanely strong if he really did all that the rumors said. And even if he_ didn’t, _ it doesn’t change the fact that, right now, people are both in awe and terrified of him.”

It was getting more difficult for Hangyul to answer. He was beginning to lose track of time. He tried to focus more on the conversation, and not on what Seungyoun was doing down there to his body. He had been the one to start the business talk, after all.

“His plan of destroying the Han Family,” Hangyul managed to say in between heavy breaths. “We-We’ll meet Kim Wooseok a lot for updates on his plan. You could try to recruit him again.”

He found his eyes wandering to the light blotches of purple and red on Seungyoun’s naked chest and shoulders. So the marks that he had left on his boss, days ago, had yet to fade. Hangyul couldn’t help but feel at least a little proud and pleased to see those.

“Yup.” Seungyoun smirked. “That’s what I had in mind for Kim Wooseok. I’m not giving him up that easily. I'll have him. Maybe not in time for the first shareholders meeting, but I will have him one day.”

“Good, because—”

Whatever clever remark Hangyul was going to say had died in his throat, replaced by a sound that he was not proud of. It was a moan, perhaps slightly a whimper. Seungyoun had withdrawn his fingers and pushed himself into the younger man, the smirk still on his face.

“You were saying?” Seungyoun asked playfully. 

“Damnit, Seungyoun.”

“Soon. He'll be mine." As he said those words, Seungyoun began to move his hips. “Kim Wooseok is mine.”

The way Seungyoun said the assassin’s name gave Hangyul an irking feeling. There was something in Seungyoun’s tone. Seungyoun was referring to Kim Wooseok as a weapon, as an _ asset._ But underlying those words, Hangyul felt that there was something else. Something special. And Hangyul hated to admit it, but it kind of hurt to hear it. 

But Hangyul knew that what he was feeling wasn’t reasonable. He and Seungyoun were just two friends, a mafia boss and his right-hand man, helping each other to relieve stress. They had established that part of their relationship months ago, when they had first started seeking comfort in each other this way. And right now with everything going on, Seungyoun was at the peak of his stress, more than a little strung up and needing to let loose. It was just that.

Feelings weren’t involved. Feelings weren't supposed to be involved.

And Hangyul would keep repeating that thought, even as he clung onto Seungyoun as the latter thrusted into him again and again. Even after they came undone in each other’s arms. Even after they were finished for the night and laid side by side.

Hangyul would keep repeating and reassuring himself, even as he fell asleep next to his boss once again.

  
  


* * *

“So this is the place?”

“Yup.”

“Looks... normal.”

“Well, what did you expect? It’s called a hidden secret place for a reason.”

At his friend’s comment, Byungchan let out a laugh. “You have a point there.”

Hyunbin rolled his eyes, but he was grinning nonetheless. “Can’t believe you dragged me all the way here.”

Days had passed since Byungchan had that major lightbulb moment in his apartment room. Days after that they had decided to check out the shady warehouse which they hoped contained some answers. Suhwan had stayed behind, but not before telling them to be extra _ extra _careful.

They now stood in front of an old two-story building. _ The warehouse. _Like many buildings at the very outskirts of the city, the paint was faded, revealing the brick walls underneath. Not only that, but its windows were so filthy and tinted that it was impossible to see what was inside. Perhaps that was the intention, to hide what the building really held.

There was no one around. Even the buildings and streets within the area seemed empty. That wasn’t a surprise, since the police had raided the warehouse only just days ago. Sometimes, people simply avoided those parts of the city, not wanting to get into trouble.

The complete opposite of what Byungchan and Hyunbin were doing.

“Let’s go,” Byungchan said, tugging on his friend’s arm.

Hyunbin was starting to look reluctant, staring at the building and the fence that encircled it.

Following the young boy's gaze, Byungchan said, “We can climb and hop the fence. Easy.”

“Fine,” Hyunbin mumbled, following Byungchan as the latter began to approach the building. “But you better buy some food for me after this. I’m hungry.”

Letting out a chuckle, Byungchan nodded. It _ had been _a long day after all. They rode the subway until the closest station to the warehouse— which wasn’t even that close. After failing to hail a taxi or finding other means of public transportation, they both decided to walk. They had packed a few bread and water in their backpacks, but they had quickly devoured all the food during the long journey.

It took well over an hour to finally get to where they were now. At least the autumn weather made the air chilly, so it wasn’t too bad of a walk.

“I’ll get you something real good,” Byungchan said, swinging an arm around Hyunbin’s shoulders. “An all-you-can-eat buffet, if you want.”

“Dessert too,” Hyunbin muttered with a huff. “I’d like ice cream.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

Byungchan was right about one thing. It was easy for them to climb the fence, landing gently on the other side.

Breaking into the warehouse was easier than they both thought too. It wasn’t guarded and took only a few fiddling with the locks for the door to swing open.

“Security sucks,” Byungchan commented.

“The police raided it,” Hyunbin replied, shining a flashlight into the dark building. “I’m pretty sure they took everything that needs to be guarded.”

The lights of the warehouse weren’t on, and Byungchan wondered if the whole electricity was shut off there. He took out his own flashlight and directed it through the doorway.

Inside the warehouse, stacks of crates and shelves lined the walls and even formed aisles throughout the whole vast room. And when Byungchan shone the light above his head, he saw how high the shelves were.

He then turned to Hyunbin, the teenager's eyes on him.

With some silent understanding, they both nodded and stepped foot into the building. They closed the door behind them, the room swallowed even more by the darkness as they did so. The windows didn’t do much to let in the last rays of sunlight either.

“The police must have had a great time here,” Hyunbin muttered. They were walking in between two aisles, stacked with crates of various sizes. Some of them were open. Others looked like they had been cracked open too. Signs that a raid had occurred.

Byungchan had stood on his tiptoes as he shone his flashlight into one open crate. It was empty. He did the same for another crate, finding the same result.

“All empty,” he commented, then gestured towards the aisles. “It’s like we’re going grocery shopping.”

“I’m amazed at how you could crack a joke in this kind of situation, Byungchan.”

“Likewise, my friend.”

For a while, they explored the room. They passed by more aisles, shining their flashlights in every direction, not knowing exactly what they were looking for.

But Byungchan had a feeling that once they saw whatever it was, they would know.

Eventually, they made it to the end of the room, seeing a couple doors there. One of the doors led to the bathroom. Another led to another poorly lit room that looked like an office. Inside that office-like room, there was an old dusty desk with a computer on it, while two shelves lined the walls.

The shelves were completely empty. The police must have taken everything.

“Hey.” Byungchan pointed his flashlight at the computer. “I think we should check that out.”

“It’d be odd to have valuable information right there,” Hyunbin commented. “But then again, they’d probably keep it all under heavy passwords and encryptions and stuff.”

“Which is why we have the most talented hacker here,” Byungchan said with an innocent smile.

Smirking at the comment, Hyunbin was already making his way to the computer. “And with the police being corrupted and lazy as fuck, it’s not a surprise they left this thing alone.” He dropped to his knees and examined the space between the desk and the wall. Finding the computer’s plug, he shoved it into the nearest socket before climbing to his feet again.

“Language, Kim Hyunbin.” Byungchan bent over to press the CPU button as his friend dropped into the seat. Thankfully, the electricity hadn’t been completely shut off. “But, you’re right. The police probably found all the drugs, captured all the bad guys, and then just called it a day.”

“Yup.” Hyunbin placed his flashlight on the table before settling his hands on the keyboard. “Alright, here we go.”

The monitor switched on in just a few seconds. It felt oddly relieving to have another source of light.

“Yup. It’s password protected,” Hyunbin said calmly, hands already flying over the keyboard. “The usual.”

Seconds later and they had logged in. Byungchan flashed his friends a thumbs up, the sound of clicks filling the air as Hyunbin found some folders.

“A lot of files about the distribution of food and drinks,” Hyunbin said, eyes scanning the screen. “Harmless food and drinks. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Yet,” Byungchan added.

Hyunbin nodded. “Yet.”

They spent the next few minutes like that, with Byungchan glancing over his shoulder once in a while. The door that led to the main room was still open, just like how they had left it, and he suddenly felt uneasy.

But the uneasiness was chased away when Hyunbin let out an _ “oh”. _

“What is it?” Byungchan asked, bending over to get a better look at the screen.

“After much digging, I found some password-protected folders.” With his hand, Hyunbin gestured dramatically towards the screen. "They were hidden folders too."

Something sparked inside of Byungchan. Excitement. His heart began to pound hard.

"Open it," he said, nudging his friend's shoulder. "This could be what we're looking for."

Hyunbin was still staring at the screen, his jaw tense. He then turned towards Byungchan, reluctance in his eyes. "Actually, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Byungchan blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I said I'm not sure this is a good idea. This looks like some really important shit—"

"Which is why we should open it," Byungchan urged.

"Or avoid it."

"We literally came all this way for something like this. It's right in front of our eyes and we're just going to stop?"

"Look." Hyunbin had turned to him now. Byungchan tried to remember the last time he had seen the boy look so serious. "With important files like this, there's a possibility it's connected to a big database. And big databases are protected even more. There's a possibility that it'll set off some sort of alarm. They might know that something's wrong."

“But we don’t know that for sure,” Byungchan said. “It might as well be safe and we’d miss what could be ground-breaking information.”

They had a stare-off for a solid ten seconds. Hyunbin finally let out a sigh.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll do it.”

A grateful smile broke out on Byungchan’s face.

“But,” Hyunbin quickly said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He then glanced in the direction of the door, as if to make sure that no one was there, before turning back to the computer.

The warehouse was dead silent except for the sound of keyboards being tapped by Hyunbin’s quick hands. This time, Byungchan’s eyes were glued to the screen as well.

Hyunbin hit a final key. A new window opened, showing files upon files.

And something else.

A popup message had appeared on screen. Byungchan read the words, feeling goosebumps all over his skin.

_ Activity sent to main database _

“Shit,” Hyunbin muttered.

So Hyunbin was right.

“Hey,” Byungchan said, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s not panic. I mean, how high is the percentage of them getting suspicious of the activities from this computer?”

The glow from the screen illuminated Hyunbin’s features, sharpening his worried gaze. “It’s high.”

“Don’t they have many computers?” Byungchan reasoned. “They’d have hundreds, probably. Tons to monitor. Would they even pay attention to this one?"

“Byungchan.”

“How high?”

“I’ll say 60 percent if we’re being optimistic. We could be at 80.”

“So we have a 40 percent chance."

"Or 20."

"It's still a chance."

“Byungchan—"

“Look, they might even think we’re one of them. That we’re just mafia dudes checking out some old data. Come on, Hyunbin. Please?”

Hyunbin looked like he was fighting an internal battle with himself. He then let out a long, loud sigh. “This is crazy.” But he grabbed the mouse, clicking on the first folder he saw. It was password-protected, but he managed to get through that quickly.

Both of them read as much as they could, drawing in as much information as they could. Even the very first file was a jackpot.

It was a distribution of drugs chart, showing how many were sent to which area of the city (and out of the city), along with the pay that was made. Hyunbin clicked on another file, and an income of the transactions flashed on screen.

Many of the files were encrypted. Hyunbin hacked into them, though it took a bit longer than they had hoped. The security was tight.

And then they hit gold.

Inside hidden folders, Hyunbin found another one. He opened it, revealing rows upon rows of videos files. He clicked on the first file.

When the video played, it was like the air rushed out of their lungs. 

“That’s him,” Byungchan said, feeling more than a little breathless.

It was CCTV footage of what looked to be a transaction, right at this very warehouse. There was a man, tall and dressed well, who held out his hand. Two other men had rigidly walked towards him, handing him a suitcase. The tall man opened it and grinned.

“That’s Cho Seungyoun,” Byungchan finished.

“Holy shit,” Hyunbin breathed. “You really were right all along.”

“Language,” Byungchan reminded him. His heart was really starting to bang hard against his chest now. “Okay, this is it. Let’s copy it all. All these folders.”

“Ri-right...” Hyunbin took the USB that Byungchan handed to him, quickly inserting it into the computer.

“I didn’t see any cameras around here. They must have been taken down after the raid. Or sometime after this footage was taken.”

There was a delay in Hyunbin’s reply. “Yeah, probably.”

Minutes passed. They used the waiting time to skim through more files, seeing if they could find anything else. The more they discovered, the more fucked up and serious Byungchan thought it was. This was more than solid evidence against Cho Seungyoun. If released to the public... Byungchan could only shiver as he thought about it.

Hyunbin had clicked another file and immediately drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Byungchan was snapped away from his thoughts, focusing on the screen again.

The words this time seemed to scream at him.

** _ UNAUTHORIZED USE_ **

“They denied access,” Hyunbin said, voice quiet yet laced with panic. “They know something is wrong. They know that we’re not one of them.” His big eyes were even bigger when he glanced at Byungchan. “They might be coming here to check.”

“Hyunbin—”

“Scratch that. I _ know _ they’re coming he-here. We n-need to go. Now.”

Hyunbin was stuttering, his hands shaking. He looked weak as he climbed to his feet, his face pale.

“Okay,” Byungchan muttered. He looked at the screen quickly, making sure the files were safely copied, before removing the USB and holding onto it tightly. "We got what we needed.”

“Okay,” Hyunbin repeated. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Hyunbin looked ready to run, but Byungchan stayed still, his mind going a million miles an hour.

He then made a decision, already feeling his heart heavy as he said it.

“You go, Hyunbin. I need to stay.”

_ “What?” _

Hyunbin had screamed the last word, his face clearly expressing how he did not want to believe what Byungchan just said.

“Hyunbin,” Byungchan said carefully, as gently as he could even though his heart was banging painfully against his chest. “Listen to me. They’re tracking our activities from this computer. If they see that all activities stopped, they’d know that we’re no longer here. They’d know that we already bolted.”

Hyunbin was shaking his head, clearly getting the gist of what Byungchan would say next, but not wanting to believe it.

“We don’t know how many people will come. Once they know we’re not at the warehouse, they’d forget the warehouse and search the areas around it. We’d get caught.”

“Byungchan—”

“But if I stay, keep the activities going on this computer, they’d come here. To this warehouse. They wouldn’t go searching for you. The computer may be locked, but I can still try to click on stuff. That’d keep it going.”

Hyunbin looked ready to cry. He still shook his head, still not wanting to believe it. Byungchan continued.

“After a few minutes, I’ll run too. I think that’s good enough of a head start for you. Then we can meet up, when we’re both safe. We’ll contact each other.”

Byungchan tried to pull on a comforting smile. He probably failed. But he took Hyunbin’s hand, placing the USB there.

“Take this USB and run,” he said, curling Hyunbin’s hand into a fist. “Don’t ever,_ ever, _ look back. Run.”

“But you—“

“As long as you have this USB, I’ll be fine. We could use this as leverage against Cho, just in case something happens to me.”

“What do you—“

“I’ll be _ fine,_ Hyunbin. I dragged you into this. I’ll make sure you get home fine. Run.”

And it was true. Byungchan _ did _ drag Hyunbin into all this mess. Hyunbin was just a high school kid with a bright future and a natural curiosity. And now the kid’s life was in danger, all because of him.

Hyunbin had given more than enough warnings, yet Byungchan still kept on pushing him forward.

And even before Hyunbin, others had warned him. Sunho, Suhwan, Detective Yuvin... yet Byungchan chose to keep going. It was all on him.

Suddenly, he remembered reading all those reports of journalists going missing after they had tried to investigate mafia cases. He remembered all the ones who were found dead in the streets or some other isolated location. He remembered the ones who were never found.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Hyunbin said, and he really _ was _crying at this point. Full of worry and being scared out of his mind. “Byungchan—”

“You’re wasting time!” Byungchan yelled, making the teenager flinch. He felt bad immediately, never being the type of person to raise his voice against others like that. In the haze of panic, he unintentionally yelled. But it worked.

Hyunbin nodded, clutching the USB to his chest, right over his heart. _ “Okay. _Fine. I— I’ll go.”

“Good.”

There was a thud as Hyunbin threw his arms around his friend, bringing him close into a quick hug before pulling away.

“Go,” Byungchan said, gently yet urgently. Hyunbin wiped his eyes and nodded, heading towards the door.

As he made his way through the doorway, Hyunbin yelled to him, “Don’t forget that you promised me ice cream! So you better not die, damnit!”

Despite the situation, Byungchan laughed. Maybe it was Hyunbin’s attempt of comforting him. Whatever it was, it helped.

“I will!” Byungchan answered, even as Hyunbin disappeared from sight and all that could be heard was his running footsteps, fading as each second passed.

Soon, all Byungchan heard was silence.

He took a deep breath, turning back to the computer. He clicked on a random file, eyes focusing on it quickly. Might as well read as much as he could while he waited.

It was no use. He really couldn’t open a single thing. The same message popped up_—**UNAUTHORIZED USE**—_ as if taunting him.

Even as he tried to convince himself that he would be fine, it was hard to ignore the trembling of his hands. The painful, harsh beating of his heart. And the sweat that ran down his face and neck. The adrenaline rushing through his veins.

_ He was fucking terrified. _

His hand was shaking so badly that he kept missing the folder, clicking on an empty space. He looked at the clock on the screen, already setting a time for when he would run as well.

He glanced over his shoulder more than frequently, as if a figure would appear in the doorway. His senses were on high alert, and he strained just to hear any noise. Any noise that would indicate that someone was coming for him.

But everything was still deadly silent.

His mind was going in all directions. Too many thoughts at once, they crashed into each other, became all jumbled up, and made the world spin worse for him.

The USB was leverage. Blackmail against Cho. Byungchan’s lifeline.

_ Or at least that was what he hoped. _

Even before handing the USB to Hyunbin, Byungchan knew that it was a gamble. A 50:50 chance. Byungchan could use it against Cho Seungyoun.

And then... 

Cho Seungyoun could fear that Hyunbin would release the files to the public, exposing him and ruining the angelic image that he had built up all this time.

Or Cho Seungyoun wouldn’t even give a damn, and Byungchan would lose all leverage. He would be a dead man.

But it was _ still a chance. _He would take the gamble.

“Calm down,” he muttered to himself, voice barely coming out. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be...”

Words trailing off, Byungchan found himself unable to continue. He waited for a few more minutes before glancing at the clock.

_ That was enough time... Right? _

He climbed to his feet so quickly that the chair tipped over and fell. Swearing that he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, he began to run.

The warehouse was still empty. And it was as dark as ever. When he flung open the door and ran out, he realized why it was so dark.

Night had fallen already. And the streets were still empty. If something happened, screaming for help wouldn’t work. He thought that maybe he could bang on the doors of any random building, hoping someone was inside. But looking at the dark windows around him, he doubted it.

In his rush, he almost fell as he climbed the fence. His landing on the other side wasn’t as gentle either.

But he ran, the only thing in his mind was _ getting the hell out of there._

It was true that he had long legs, but that fact didn’t help him much. It was also a known fact that his physical strength wasn’t the best, and neither was his stamina. He had always wished he had better stamina.

So he couldn’t run that fast, and after a few minutes his pace began to slow down as fatigue took ahold of him.

On any normal day, he would have stopped and gasped for breath. But it was both the fear and adrenaline that somehow gave him the strength to keep going.

He kept telling himself that all he needed to do was reach a street where there were _ people _ and he could try to find any sort of transportation that would take him away from there— to safety—

Byungchan then saw headlights at the corner of the street.

A car was coming.

Clamping a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from screaming, he quickly ducked into a dark alleyway, pressing himself as close to the wall as he could.

The car had turned the corner, heading in his direction. There was nothing to hide behind, and the alley had a dead end. He could only hope and pray that they wouldn’t see him.

Headlights drawing near, Byungchan felt his own hand trembling against his mouth.

_ No, please no. Please please please—_

Light flooded his vision as the car drove by. And it kept going, not stopping.

Byungchan nearly collapsed to the ground, leaning heavily against the wall.

The car’s windows were tinted. Byungchan had caught a quick glimpse of it. It wasn’t certain that it was Cho inside the car. Maybe it was just some random person? Maybe?

_ But what would a random person do at these empty streets? _ he almost yelled at himself. Not to mention that it was a luxurious and undoubtedly expensive car. What was it doing in the outskirts of the city with all the rundown buildings and streets?

He knew that he couldn’t be relieved. He had to get away as far as he could. The car could easily turn back, could easily think that they had seen something in the dark alleyway.

So Byungchan continued running. And running and running and running. He passed more empty streets, more buildings with their dark windows.

He turned a corner into another alleyway. Here, he put a hand against the wall of the building next to him, hunching over and gasping for air.

Glancing over his shoulder and at his surroundings, he saw that no one was following him. He couldn’t hear the sound of a car, nor could he see any light that indicated that the vehicle was near. The streets were empty as ever.

Relief began to flood his body.

_ Okay, _ he thought. _ This should be okay. _

He turned his attention to the view in front of him. The alleyway was long, but he could see how the streets there were empty as well. No one was there. He could _ do this. _

Byungchan allowed himself another three seconds before he forced his legs to move again. He knew he had to get out of there as quickly as he could. He would reunite with Hyunbin and—

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

At the sudden sound of a man’s voice behind him, Byungchan’s heart dropped. Chills ran down his entire spine, his eyes wide.

He had only taken a step forward when he was grabbed from behind.

Two arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him backwards. His back thumped against the man behind him, and the latter pulled him in even closer, trapping him in between strong and muscular arms.

Byungchan tried to escape. He lunged forward with all his might, desperately trying to break free. His panic hit its peak and drowned all of his thoughts when the stranger’s hand clamped over his mouth and nose.

The stranger held a cloth and he pressed it over the bottom half of Byungchan’s face, forcing him to breathe into it.

_ Chloroform. _

The cloth was drenched in chloroform, and Byungchan was breathing it all in.

Maybe he was screaming. He couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything. Maybe it was just silent screams, or perhaps any noise that came out of his mouth was muffled. The world was a messy blur. There was a ringing in his ears. He couldn’t make sense of a single thing.

Byungchan knew he stood no chance. He knew that when it came to physical strength, he lacked terribly. And the person behind him was undoubtedly trained, skilled, insanely strong, and most likely ready to kill.

But even in the face of hopelessness, desperation naturally kicked in, causing him to thrash around, to fight back, to try his hopeless attempts of escape.

And so that was what he did. He thrashed around, trying to tear himself out of the other man’s grip. But it was useless. The person behind him was like a statue, barely budging, pressing the drugged-up cloth even harsher against Byungchan’s mouth and nose.

He had tried not to breathe. It was a mixture of panic flooding his senses and thoughts, of the exertion sucking all air out of him, and also the simple fact that he was just a normal human being that _ fucking needed oxygen,_ that made him draw in a couple breaths to fill his screaming lungs.

The world became blurrier. It was as if someone had switched off the lights, flooding his vision in darkness.

His thrashes became weaker. Soon, he began losing the energy in his legs as his knees buckled. The stranger’s hand still relentless over Byungchan’s mouth, the journalist could feel himself slipping away.

After one last, hopeless attempt of breaking free, his body slumped forward. As if that last action took the very last bit of his energy.

The stranger held onto him, not letting him hit the ground. Instead, Byungchan hung there in the other man’s arms, limp and barely moving.

Through the muffled ringing in his ears, Byungchan could hear footsteps coming in his direction. Soon, he saw the source of the sound, stepping into his vision.

There was another man.

A pair of shiny, polished shoes. Through the haze, Byungchan weakly let his gaze go up.

Pants that matched the luxurious shoes. A neat and trim suit above it, with the tie that had been done well.

And a face that Byungchan knew he would never forget.

The man in front of him grinned, taking a few steps closer. Byungchan felt a finger underneath his chin, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man even if he wanted to. With his finger, the man tilted Byungchan's head up, forcing them to lock eyes.

“Looks like someone’s been naughty,” the man cooed.

And that was the last thing Byungchan remembered before he blacked out and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops.
> 
> Hi! We're sorry for the very late update!! our irl have been really hectic lately and since chapter 4 is very plot-heavy, we wanted to make sure we're doing this right.
> 
> __
> 
> also
> 
> With everything going on with the Produce series, we really want to say:  
Please support the debuted groups and the other trainees who all worked hard. Direct your anger towards the adults responsible for the mess, not the idols.
> 
> Let's stay strong and protect our kids, everyone ♥
> 
> __
> 
> 'if the world stops turning' song playlist: [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/06wvfVuHe1TYTl1PZZ3Ec2?si=6P3kURpSRj6Sq0Lkz1Xz7w) | [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvf3aIbal9dcjJxWtyUbtSjvdG0wbDOn5)
> 
> our twitters:  
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	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're baaaaaaack :D and look, [another video trailer thingy!](https://twitter.com/meshiin_/status/1241738299116408834?s=20)
> 
> ___
> 
> hi, everyone! sorry we disappeared for a while and sorry you had to wait so long for this. a lot of things happened, so we needed time to sort out our thoughts. thus, we took a break from writing this.
> 
> But we're back here with the story! :) 
> 
> ___
> 
> trigger warning for this chapter: abduction, abusive behavior

Suhwan almost dropped the box he was carrying as he climbed up the stairs to the third floor. He cursed under his breath, promising to give Choi Byungchan a fine lecture when he came back with Hyunbin from the damn warehouse. It was because of that damn warehouse that Suhwan ended up with the task of returning the box of files that Byungchan allegedly stole from the police.

Going up to the receptionist, Suhwan gave her a slight smile. “Hi. Choi Suhwan from The Daily News,” he greeted her. “I’m here to meet Detective Song Yuvin?”

The receptionist gave Suhwan a smile in return. “He’s currently in a meeting. Do you need anything?”

“I’m here to return some of the files I borrowed. Any chance I could just drop these off on his desk?” Suhwan asked as he brought up the box to show the receptionist. 

“Sure. His desk is the third one on your left,” the receptionist answered kindly. Suhwan blurted a quick ‘thanks’ and immediately entered the detective bullpen.

There weren’t many people in the bullpen, surprisingly. An old detective was occupying his computer and three people gathered in front of a whiteboard near the desk that the receptionist mentioned earlier.

“Okay then... How about the youngest Lee?” Suhwan could hear the older detective, Kim Kookheon, ask as he tapped his pen onto his notepad. 

“Dead. These two guys right here were the first bodies to be recovered. Too bad. Heard both of them were the funniest people out of the bunch,” a tall man with long limbs answered easily as his hands moved from one picture to another that was placed on the whiteboard. Beside him, Suhwan caught a glimpse of Yuvin ruffling his own hair.

“How about this Seon fellow?” Kookheon inquired.

“Dead too. Another shame. He had such a lovely voice.” A pause. “Oh, and by the way, if you caught the news that the Lee Family are a bunch of boring old men, you are correct. You better write that down,” the man continued, flashing a grin to Kookheon who sighed in frustration.

“Jinhyuk... I need more information than the Lee Family being a bunch of boring... Hi?”

Suhwan gasped when Kookheon finally took notice of him standing behind the three men. Yuvin and the tall man— _Jinhyuk... was it?—_ turned their attention, gaze meeting with Suhwan.

“Hi, am I interrupting something?” Suhwan asked as he waved the box in his hands and Yuvin immediately caught his signal, approaching Suhwan who was standing near his desk. 

“Who is it from, Suhwan?” Yuvin asked.

“Uh... Byungchan?” Suhwan answered and immediately Yuvin’s expression became sour.

The detective let out a heavy sigh. He received the box from Suhwan and his expression became even more sour.

“Holy crap, that kid really took the files.” Yuvin sighed and placed the box on his desk, afterwards running a hand through his hair.

Suhwan immediately felt bad for Yuvin. The case must have been stressing him out.

“Suhwan. Promise me to give him a yell if I ever meet him again,” Yuvin muttered and Suhwan laughed.

“Don’t worry. I will,” Suhwan answered. “Oh, I have to get back. I’ll drag Byungchan here to apologize next time.”

Yuvin waved his hand at Suhwan when the latter exited the bullpen, faintly hearing Kim Kookheon raise his voice while complaining, _"Lee Jinhyuk, I need more information.”_

* * *

Suhwan didn’t realize that he was stomping as he made his way to Byungchan’s apartment. That man would surely owe him _ so many _ fucking beer tabs and food. Suhwan was at the door when his hand reached the knob, turning it, and it opened. The shorter man was taken aback for a while but decided to fling the door open.

Suhwan was about to yell his friend’s name when someone else’s voice, someone that Suhwan knew, beat him to it. 

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS FUCKING DANGEROUS!” a voice suddenly yelled from inside the bedroom area, surprising Suhwan. He could hear the distress and panic and anger from the voice alone.

Suhwan was about to ask, but the voice clearly wasn’t finished. 

“I TOLD YOU, BYUNGCHAN! IT WAS FUCKING DANGEROUS! YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING—” the yelling was cut off when the owner of the voice emerged from the bedroom area and his eyes met with Suhwan in disbelief, “—listened to me...”

Kim Hyunbin was standing near the bedroom area. He was wearing the same clothes that he used yesterday when he and Byungchan bid farewell to Suhwan to investigate the warehouse on the outskirts of the city. However, instead of clean clothes, Suhwan noticed that Hyunbin’s clothes were a bit dirty. Tattered, even. 

But what Suhwan didn’t expect was Hyunbin’s expression when their eyes met. The younger of the two had red, puffy eyes and an expression mixed with exhaustion, distress, anger, panic, even anguish. In split seconds, Hyunbin suddenly dropped to the floor on his knees and broke down, crying hard. 

In a panic, Suhwan slammed the door shut and ran towards Hyunbin. His hands immediately reached out to the younger man and brought him into a tight embrace, one hand circling Hyunbin's back while the other was stroking his head. Hyunbin immediately clutched Suhwan’s jacket and cried even harder. 

Suhwan could only hold Hyunbin tight, soothing him by patting his head. All the while, Suhwan himself had millions of thoughts running through his mind.

Hyunbin calmed down after several minutes. Suhwan had successfully made him move from the floor to the couch. Although he had drunk the water and hot tea that Suhwan made for him, Hyunbin’s body was still trembling hard. The teenager even flinched when Suhwan took his hand in his and stared directly at him. 

“Hyunbin, you have to tell me what happened so I can help you,” Suhwan said, tone serious. His mind wandered about what could have possibly happened to Byungchan. But now, he needed information. A concrete one. So they could plan what to do next.

Hyunbin took a long breath and he began to retell about what happened at the warehouse— from the description of the warehouse that Hyunbin could remember, the conversation they had inside the warehouse, the warning that Hyunbin ensued to Byungchan about the computer, all the way to the blaring alarm that forced Hyunbin to run.

“And I left him there, Suhwan... I’m so, so sorry... I... just ran... Because he told me to...” Hyunbin muttered, sniffling once in a while. “Before I knew it... I arrived at his apartment and I’ve been waiting for him...”

Tears began to form again in Hyunbin’s eyes before he choked out, “And he hasn’t returned...” Then the teenager resumed crying. 

Suhwan let out a heavy breath. He was panicking. From Hyunbin’s story, there could be two possible scenarios.

First scenario: Byungchan was still on his way home. Maybe he took another route for safety reasons or he was stalling for time so Hyunbin could safely return home.

Or, another possible scenario: Byungchan was kidnapped by whoever came to the warehouse after the alarm was triggered. 

_ I told him that this news was dangerous. I told him he shouldn’t have tried to write this_—

Suhwan then let out another heavy breath. He should calm down. Being angry would not solve anything now. It wouldn’t give out Byungchan’s whereabouts suddenly either. Moreover, he should take care of Hyunbin first. Judging from his story, the teenager didn’t catch even a wink of sleep or had a proper meal ever since he returned from the warehouse. Suhwan’s top priority should be making sure Hyunbin’s basic needs were taken care of first.

“Hyunbin. I’ll go order some food for us. Now I want you to take a bath first, then we’ll eat our food, and then we’ll figure out our next step. Okay?” Suhwan made his suggestion and Hyunbin nodded slowly. Suhwan nodded too and was about to order some food when Hyunbin’s hand suddenly stopped him from doing so.

“I forgot... that Byungchan gave me this before I ran...” Hyunbin said as he handed Suhwan a USB. The shorter man accepted it and examined it closely. _ This USB must have something inside because Byungchan gave it to Hyunbin before he_—

_ No. Let’s focus on taking care of Hyunbin first. _Suhwan mentally slapped himself. He accepted the USB and put it inside his pocket. He then made his way to the telephone.

They would worry about the USB later. 

* * *

The world was nothing but a blurry mess when Byungchan woke up.

A dark, blurry mess where nothing made sense.

He wasn’t sure which of his senses returned first. Everything was deadly quiet, as if noise just simply didn’t exist. But soon, shallow, soft breaths reached his ears.

It was later when he realized that it was the sound of his own breathing.

His eyes opened slowly, as if that itself was a struggle. His head hurt like hell, and he felt dizzy and absolutely disoriented.

Finally, he got a hold of himself. Or at least a little bit. But his eyes widened, and he gave a little jolt when he remembered what had happened to him.

He was kidnapped. _ He was kidnapped. _

As Byungchan jolted, he realized the aching in his arms and the hard surface underneath him. He was sitting on a chair with his arms stretched behind him, hands tied behind the chair.

The panic and fear rushing to him, he tried to stand, only to find that his ankles were tied to the chair’s feet.

The chair itself didn’t budge, as if it was bolted to the floor.

_ Oh my god. _ It was all he could think of. _ Oh my god oh my god oh my god— _

Byungchan was alone in an empty room, tied to a chair, with no idea where the hell he was and what the hell was going to happen to him. How many days have passed since he and Hyunbin were in that warehouse? Did a day even pass? How would he know?

Through the haze of panic, the walls of a dark room came into his vision. Byungchan glanced to his left and right, seeing the same bare, windowless walls and bare floors. The only thing in the room was a metal table at the corner. And a single lamp in the middle of the ceiling, as if shining towards him and only him. As if exposing him to whatever would come for him.

_ Whatever would come for him. _

Whatever would come through the door at the end of the room. Through the door he was facing.

Just staring at the door caused the panic to overwhelm him. Byungchan shut his eyes and bent his head down.

_ Okay, _ he told himself. _ Okay, Choi Byungchan. You are now in this situation. You were captured by him. But you need to calm down and think clearly— _

But the panic began to take over.

_ I’m going to be killed. He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die right here and no one will be able to find my body. I’m going to— _

If his hands were free, Byungchan would have slapped himself. All he could do was shake his head furiously, as if that would shake off the terrible thoughts.

Then he took deep, slow breaths. He tried to clear his head, if only a little.

_ Alright, _ he finally said in his head. _ Someone will come. Probably him. But you can’t let him see how fucking terrified you are. You have to be strong. You have to, Choi Byungchan. _

Repeating the words silently to himself, as if they were a prayer, Byungchan continued to take in steady breaths. Or as steady as he could. But he was no longer shaking, so that was something. He opened his eyes, staring at the floor.

He wasn’t sure how many minutes passed. Time seemed to be an abstract concept in this situation— in his current state.

Then there was a _ click _ sound. It echoed throughout the whole room, causing Byungchan to flinch. It was the sound of a doorknob turning.

Eyes up front, Byungchan saw the door swing open. He took one more breath, pulling on a brave and serious face.

A man walked through the open doorway. Byungchan took one look at the man’s strong, sharp facial features, and knew exactly who he was.

_ Lee Hangyul. Cho Seungyoun’s bodyguard. _

_ Who is obviously more than just a simple bodyguard, _ Byungchan noted. It caused his heart to lurch. What would happen to him now?

Without a word, Lee Hangyul shut the door behind him. He did it calmly, as if there was all the time in the world. His ash-gray hair was slightly tousled, but otherwise neat and revealing his sharp gaze. He wore a dark waistcoat over a simple, white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

There was no blood on Hangyul’s clothes, which made Byungchan slightly relieved.

The journalist did feel his arms and body aching, but at least he didn’t have any serious wounds.

But his relief was cut short when the reality hit him— that he was in a room alone with who pretty much might be a trained murderer. _ Maybe, he only had a few more minutes to live. _

Byungchan thought that Cho Seungyoun would be the one to appear. He remembered being held from behind as the man had stepped into his vision. He had seen Cho Seungyoun’s face, felt Cho Seungyoun’s finger on his chin, and remembered how _ Cho Seungyoun _ was the last thing he saw before passing out.

But Seungyoun wasn’t here. At least, not right now.

Hangyul’s hand finally let go of the doorknob. He finally turned to face Byungchan, and the journalist did all he could to not flinch or start trembling.

All Lee Hangyul had to do was stare at him, and Byungchan felt his resolution start to crumble. But he didn’t let it show on his face, still keeping up his brave front. As the silence continued, he quickly got a hold of himself.

Hangyul took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them. Calm, casual steps.

He stopped right in front of Byungchan, looking down on him.

Byungchan stared back at him, not wanting to back down. None of them said a word for a few solid seconds.

Then Lee Hangyul opened his mouth, and his deep husky voice was familiar. It was the same deep voice that Byungchan had heard behind him, back at that dark dirty alleyway. The voice that he had heard before arms grabbed him from behind, trapping him.

“What were you doing at the warehouse?”

Byungchan bit his own tongue, willing himself to stay silent. He stared back, as fiercely as he could, not saying a word.

Hangyul just looked at him, face passive yet serious. Voice just as calm as he continued.

“How did you know about the warehouse?”

Again, Byungchan replied with silence. In return, Hangyul was patient, unfazed. Calm.

Then, without a single warning, Hangyul closed the small distance, hand shooting out.

Byungchan bit his own tongue harder, forcing himself to swallow his panic and fear, as Hangyul grabbed the journalist’s face in between strong and rough fingers.

In a tight grip, Byungchan felt Hangyul squeeze both sides of his cheeks, the palm pressing against his chin, right below the mouth. It hurt. It fucking _ hurt. _

Hangyul bent down, closer to him. His eyes and gaze looked even sharper and more intimidating up-close.

His voice was still calm, but this time with _ force _and in a harsher, rougher tone. “What were you doing in the warehouse and how did you know about it?”

After one single second of silence, Hangyul tightened the grip, and Byungchan felt like his face would break.

“Answer me.”

A split second of silence. The hands got rougher.

“I said, _ answer me.” _

“Why...”

Byungchan’s voice was hoarse as he said that one word. He realized that he must have been parched, his throat completely dry.

At the journalist’s response, Hangyul’s fingers loosened. Just slightly. The pain resided, but it was still there.

The bodyguard was terrifyingly patient as he waited. Byungchan was grateful that his own voice was steady as he continued, not even a slight tremble.

“Why should I tell you?”

That didn’t faze Hangyul either. But it did something, because Hangyul stared at him for a bit before roughly drawing his hand back.

Byungchan thought that he would get hit right there, but instead, Hangyul just stood there.

Then the bodyguard put a hand behind his own back, along the waistline. And from behind his back, he pulled out a pistol.

Alarms went off in Byungchan’s head. He was screaming inside, just for himself to hear. At the sight of the gun, his rationality seemed to come crashing down.

If Hangyul put a hand to the journalist’s chest, he would feel hard and rapid heartbeats. But he didn’t, and Byungchan kept up his intense and brave glare, not wanting the other man to know how he was _ scared shitless. _

Hangyul held the pistol, turning it over in his hand. He held it naturally and comfortably, as if that pistol belonged there, in full display for Byungchan to see.

Then the bodyguard turned around, walking calmly towards the door. It was then that Byungchan saw the gun belt around Hangyul’s waist, the holster empty. 

Hangyul stopped a few steps away from the table. Without a word, he did an underhand throw, tossing the pistol in the air.

Byungchan couldn’t help but flinch when the pistol hit the metal table— a loud, piercing clattering noise filling in the silent room like an explosion.

The gesture’s intent was obvious. It was a threat. Byungchan could easily get shot through the head. All Lee Hangyul had to do was grab the gun and pull the trigger.

Silence filled the room again, and it felt more eerie and suffocating. Hangyul walked back towards the journalist, halting right in front of him again.

“Do you want to die?”

Chills shot down Byungchan’s spine. He hated how calmly Hangyul spoke, yet the threat was heavy and had the desired terrifying impact. But Byungchan remembered the information that he had gotten, remembered how it was all safely in Hyunbin’s hands, and how there might be a chance to get out of this.

Even if it was a desperate, tiny chance. He was taking it.

“Are you sure you want me to die?” Byungchan said, almost spitting the words out.

He wanted to see a slight change in Hangyul’s composure. Just a slight difference, and that would give him a ray of hope. But there was none.

Instead, all he got was a calm reply.

“What do you mean?”

Knowing that he could lose everything and at the same time clinging onto the only hope, Byungchan pulled on a small smirk.

“I have information on Cho Seungyoun. I have proof about his involvement in the mafia. And it’s all safe somewhere, ready to be exposed to the public if something were to happen to me.”

_ Now _there it was. It was barely noticeable. Perhaps Byungchan had imagined it. But Hangyul raised an eyebrow— only very slightly. But it was an indication that the journalist’s words got to him.

“You’re lying,” the bodyguard said. Quietly.

“I’m not.” Byungchan wanted to applaud himself at how calm he sounded. “I got information from that warehouse. The files are kept in a safe place now.”

A pause. Byungchan raised his voice.

“Detective Ji Youngjin was murdered by the Cho Family on the 13th of July, two years ago. He was investigating the family’s ties with the mafia. But before he could complete the investigation, he was killed.”

Hangyul was staring at him, _ hard,_ his gaze piercing. But there was uncertainty in that gaze. Feeling a spurt of victory, Byungchan continued.

“There were many magazines that tried to uncover the Cho Family’s mafia life. But all of them were halted.” He took a short breath, just to fill his lungs with oxygen. “And this is just one of many things that I know about Cho Seungyoun and his family. _ Your _family. I have more. And with the new information I got from the warehouse, the information in my hands are endless.”

The silence was deafening. Hangyul’s eyes never stopped staring at him.

“If I die,” Byungchan said, with a voice almost like a whisper. “Cho Seungyoun and his family goes down with me.”

They might as well have drowned in the silence. It was stifling. It could have choked them. But Hangyul broke said silence by wordlessly turning on his heel and walking towards the door.

This time, there was a slight pace to his calm footsteps. As if he was in what could have been a _ rush. _He scooped up the pistol from the table, tucking it back in its holster.

There was a slight _ bang _as the door opened and closed. Lee Hangyul had left the room, leaving Byungchan alone.

And it was then that Byungchan let his tough exterior break. He bent over, breathing hard and loud, eyes wide with fear and _ relief that he was still alive. _ He gulped in air as if he had been drowning.

He had choked a little on nothing, his dry throat hurting him as he trembled.

Shutting his eyes, he tried to block out everything. He didn’t want to see the scary room with its scary walls. He tried to ignore how his hands and legs were tied tightly to a chair.

But he only let himself be vulnerable for just a few seconds. Because someone would come to him again. Maybe Hangyul. Or maybe Cho Seungyoun himself. And Byungchan would _ not _ let them see how terrified he was.

It wasn’t over. This was just the beginning.

The Cho Family mansion was huge. With its many halls and many rooms, it had stood with the family for generations.

In one of the empty halls, Cho Seungyoun and Kim Yohan were deep in conversation.

“How?” Seungyoun said. He was pacing, though slowly and rather calmly. But deep down, he felt the panic and confusion rushing through him. “Just how did this kid manage to find the place?”

Yohan, leaning heavily against the wall, let out a sigh. “And he’s got some hacking skills in his hands too,” he muttered. “He can’t just be any other person to be able to find the place _ and _get something from it.”

Seungyoun nodded. “The media doesn’t know you either. The public doesn’t know about you. You’re _ hidden, _ Yohan. But he knew your name and tied it to the warehouse. Somehow tied it to me.” He stopped in his tracks. “There’s something fishy about that kid.”

Yohan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off when a deep voice joined the conversation.

“Seungyoun. You need to come with me.”

Both men glanced in the direction of the voice, seeing Hangyul walking down the hallway at a fast pace. Seungyoun saw the uneasiness on Hangyul’s face, and he knew that something was wrong.

“What is it?” the mafia boss asked.

“Just come with me.”

Yohan must have sensed the urgency in Hangyul’s tone, because confusion was on his face as well.

Seungyoun nodded again, giving Yohan a pat on the shoulder before following his right-hand man.

Hangyul explained on the way back to the interrogation room. As they descended a flight of stairs, Seungyoun became more and more confused with each word.

“So now this kid is threatening me,” Seungyoun said, loosening his tie. The air suddenly felt stifling. Maybe he should have taken off the outer layer of his suit, but he decided to keep it on. “He’s threatening me with information that he got from the warehouse. And other information that I wonder where the hell he got it from.”

“Yeah. Yohan gave you info on him, right?”

“He did.” Seungyoun had that serious look on his face, but there was a glint of amusement and curiosity in his eyes. “Choi Byungchan. Twenty-one years old. A university student and a journalist from the_ The Daily News.” _

“It is quite concerning.”

“But he hasn’t published anything of importance,” Seungyoun added. “Just harmless articles. Maybe he was trying to get somewhere with this. Well, it’s too bad for him.”

A minute later and they had reached the door of the room which contained the said journalist. Seungyoun told Hangyul that he would be going in alone, to which the latter gave a firm nod.

Seungyoun wasn’t really sure what to expect. He didn’t come into the interrogation room that often. Most of the time, if it was a small case, he would leave it to Hangyul or Yohan. But when it was something serious, he would step in.

He remembered how he would open the door and see a sobbing mess of a human. He would see the fear in their eyes, hear the pleading and begging to let them live. They were scared of him and scared of what he would _ and could do _ to them.

Thus, Choi Byungchan was an anomaly.

Seungyoun didn’t see the fear. He didn’t hear any begging. What he saw was a young man, looking straight at him with fierce eyes.

“Cho Seungyoun.”

And he didn’t expect to hear his own name being uttered so bravely like that.

_ Huh, _ he thought. _ Interesting. _

Seungyoun slammed the door behind him, letting a loud _ bang _ echo throughout the room. Composed, he walked up to the journalist, towering over him.

“Choi Byungchan,” he answered. “I heard that you’re threatening me.”

“Then you heard correctly.”

_ Oh, the attitude. _

Seungyoun bent down to get a closer look at the man. Although in a disheveled state with messy hair and skin glistening with sweat, Choi Byungchan’s soft and innocent facial features were still clearly seen. But at this moment, the journalist was letting out an aura contradictory to his physical appearance.

And when he spoke, Byungchan held his tone and voice steady. Even if it was a farce, Seungyoun felt like applauding him for it.

“I have everything on you,” Byungchan said, or more precisely, _ spat. _ “And I have someone ready to leak it all.”

Seungyoun raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his face. “Is that so?”

“I can crumble your entire family in a single article.”

Now _ that _crossed a line.

There wasn’t a bruise on Choi Byungchan’s face. Hangyul knew how to work without bringing damage— he had subdued Byungchan in that dark alleyway without a single scratch.

The pale and untouched skin made Seungyoun want to hold it. And so he did, ghosting a hand over the journalist’s cheek before feeling it underneath his fingers.

Byungchan went tense, most probably caught by surprise.

This young man threatened to destroy Seungyoun’s entire family, and yet he was unscathed like this. And he didn’t show even a little bit of fear.

_ How dare he. _

Seungyoun walked to Byungchan’s side, seeing the younger man’s hands tied behind his back. There were signs of a struggle, a little redness around the area of Byungchan’s wrists where the ropes had dug into them. Upon closer inspection, Byungchan’s cheeks were a bit red, though the color had faded away tremendously. Perhaps Hangyul had done something after all.

But this person, who threatened him, was otherwise fine.

_ How fucking dare he. _

Seungyoun’s hand slipped to the back of Byungchan’s head. Without a warning, he grabbed a fistful of hair and roughly pulled back.

A gasp escaped the journalist’s lips, head tilted back by Seungyoun’s hold. His eyes went wide for a split second out of surprise, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he drew in deep breaths.

Sweat trickled down Choi Byungchan’s exposed neck. Perhaps, this kid was a lot more scared than he let on.

“You’re bluffing,” Seungyoun said, quietly. 

But the fear appeared to vanish, replaced by a defiant gaze.

“I’m not,” Byungchan answered, as if he wasn’t being held threateningly like this. As if this wasn’t the ideal position to have his throat slit open. It seemed difficult to talk when a fistful of his hair was in the other man’s hand, but he managed. “On July 12th two years ago, you argued with Ji Youngjin in front of the park because he found proof from his investigation that you are part of the mafia. The next day, he was killed by your men.”

Seungyoun smirked. “Oh yes, old man Ji. Too bad people won’t believe that crazy old man was a detective.” 

Byungchan could feel Seungyoun’s grip tighten even more on his hair.

“Something like that won’t bring me down,” Seungyoun said lightly, almost in a singsong voice. “You need something more than that.”

Eyes locked on each other, Byungchan continued.

“New year’s Eve, three years ago. You went to your private villa on Heather Hill. Unfortunately that night, one of your men screwed up a deal near that villa so you had to finish them off personally. You wore a black shirt with red stripes on the arms, so it covered up some blood that spilled onto your shirt.”

Seungyoun’s grip loosened. His pupils began to shake.

“It was almost midnight when you made it back to your villa,” Byungchan said. “But you made it just in time to blow the New Years candles on top of the strawberry cheesecake, ‘cause it is believed that blowing candles on New Years could grant you a wish.”

With each detail, Seungyoun felt blow after blow, though he wouldn’t show it. It was impossible. 

_ How the hell? How the hell did this kid know? _Seungyoun had made sure that no other living person knew what happened that night.

But Byungchan said nothing of his sources. Not even a hint of it. All he said were details of things that no one else should know. _ No one else. _

_ So how? _

And from Byungchan’s eyes, now slightly glazy with tears of pain due to how hard Seungyoun held onto him, Seungyoun could see that the journalist was being very _ very _serious.

_ How the hell did he know? _

Seungyoun didn’t ask, fully aware that he wouldn’t be getting a straight answer. Not from this kid. Not from this defiant journalist who knew way too much.

He stayed silent as Byungchan spoke, though it felt like a storm was raging inside him. He thought of things that he shouldn’t at that moment. Things that made him want to lock himself up in his office and just... think. To just think and be away from all this.

So it was without a word that Seungyoun let go. It was with enough force that Byungchan’s back pressed against the chair roughly, but the journalist did a good job of hiding a gasp or whatever would have come out of his mouth this time.

Seungyoun left the room, heart banging against his chest. He slammed the door behind him again, shoulders heaving as he breathed heavily. A million thoughts were rushing in his head.

“Seungyoun?”

Hangyul’s voice brought him back to the moment. Seungyoun spared only one glance at his right-hand man, seeing the concerned look on the latter’s face.

With as steady a voice as he could, Seungyoun said, “Take him to that room.”

Then he walked off, heading to his office.

Silence filled the room when Seungyoun left. Byungchan had, _ somehow, _ survived a face-off with Cho Seungyoun. _ But who knows what he has in store for the next hours, days, months? _ That was _ if _ he had months, he thought, although he quickly shook it off. He was left alone, but something in Byungchan’s gut told him that this time he wasn’t going to be alone for a long time. His heart raced, as if his whole body was trying to tell him that _ you’re not safe yet. _

Byungchan couldn’t hide the jump on his heartbeat when Hangyul came back in with a burlap sack and a roll of black tape on his hand. His eyes widened, panic starting to build up inside him with every step that Hangyul took, closer to where Byungchan was sitting. Once Hangyul was less than a meter away, Byungchan lost his calm composure.

“Stay away from me,” he hissed. _"Stay away from me!"_

Hangyul, however, paid no attention to his words. He held Byungchan’s jaw with a grip so strong that Byungchan's eyes started to water. With his teeth, Hangyul ripped a row of black tape and put it on Byungchan’s mouth.

He knew it was useless, but Byungchan _ struggled. _He tried kicking and stomping his feet and moving his hands until his wrists started to feel like they were burning.

_"Tsk."_ Hangyul got a fistful of Byungchan’s hair. Forcing Byungchan to stay still. “If I were you, I would’ve stayed completely still. It’d hurt less.”

And within the next seconds, Byungchan couldn’t see anything but black as a burlap sack was put over his head. He could feel sheer panic running through his whole body that he had forgotten how to breathe for a few seconds. He noticed a string was tightened around his neck, a bit too tight that he winced, but not to the point of choking him. Two little holes of air were present on the bottom side of the bag. They were too small for any light or vision to have been available for him but oh god, _ oh god, _at least he was breathing. 

A sound came into his hearing. Byungchan knew that sound too well, from the hundreds and thousands of crime movies that he had watched throughout his life. A sound of a gun being filled with bullets. He froze when he felt something touching the back of his head. His whole body was screaming, _ a gun. _

“I’m going to release your ties and you will stand up,” Hangyul started calmly. “Then I will retie your wrists and you will walk. You will know where to walk from the gun on your back. You will walk in a straight line if the gun is on the middle of your back, you’ll turn left when you feel the gun on your left shoulder, and you’ll turn right when you feel the gun on your right. Is that clear?”

Byungchan gulped. He knew that the only way to stay alive at that moment was to follow whatever he was being told to. So he nodded. When he felt that his wrists and legs were free, he stood up with trembling legs. The pressure off of his wrists was short-lived, as they were binded together once again. He could feel a gun on the middle of his back so he walked slowly straight. 

Byungchan didn’t believe in God, but with every step, he felt a prayer on the tip of his tongue.

  
  


For the first few turns, Byungchan was determined to remember the way he was shown. _ It’s helpful__,_ he thought. _ It’s always helpful to know the layout of the place you’re in._ So he started making a mental note. _ Straight, then left, then right, then straight, then left. _ But it felt like the hallways were _ endless._ Minutes passed, maybe hours. Time was abstract for him to the point that everything felt like a fever dream. Byungchan, dehydrated and panicked and tired, was _ panting._ But he could feel the heavy tip of a gun on his shoulder and he kept walking. He walked, and walked, and he walked, until he gave up on remembering the twist and turns of the place he was in. 

After what must have been the hundredth twist and turn, Hangyul finally said, “Stop”. Byungchan heard a click of a door opening, felt himself being guided inside, heard the door closing, and suddenly his eyes were bright with vision.

He blinked a few times, wincing and groaning as Hangyul mercilessly ripped the black tape off of his mouth.

“You are to stay in this room,” Hangyul said. 

Byungchan took the time to notice the so-called “room.” It was small. A single bed, a one door cabinet, one table and a chair, and a door to a small bathroom. _ A prison,_ he realized. This was only a more merciful place for a prison with privacy. 

“Food and clothes will be served when you need it,” Hangyul explained. Byungchan wondered for a second about the standard of _ needing _ food and clothes and shivered at the realization that they were only doing this so he didn’t _ die__._ “Don’t even _ think _about trying to go out. We have cameras installed and men loitering around. You’d be caught before you can take two steps,” Hangyul continued. “We’re only keeping you alive. There are a million ways to suffer without dying.”

Byungchan gulped.

“Don’t push your luck,” Hangyul finished before ultimately closing and locking the— what seemed to be— a _ very _heavy door, leaving Byungchan alone.

Hangyul ran a hand through his hair as he walked to Seungyoun’s office. He couldn’t help but wonder just what exactly had happened in the short minutes of Seungyoun’s conversation with the kid that granted him a pass to actually _ live _to see another day. He was thinking about some questions to ask when he locked eyes with Yohan who stood in front of Seungyoun’s office. He raised an eyebrow when Yohan shook his head.

“He’s not in,” Yohan said.

That was weird. Didn’t Seungyoun walk in the direction of the office after meeting Byungchan?

“Try his room,” Yohan continued, lighting a new cigarette and offering Hangyul one. Hangyul shook his head, signalling a no. “Think someone saw him heading there.”

“Seung—” Hangyul’s words were cut off when he opened the door to Seungyoun’s bedroom. He took a moment to take in the condition of the room. The lights were off, almost every window was closed too, curtains drawn. Almost all, except for one. The one right next to the sofa that Seungyoun usually sat on— and was sitting on at that moment. The curtains were raised, letting the afternoon sun bleed through the window as the only source of light in the otherwise dark room, illuminating the sole vase of white flowers on the windowsill and Seungyoun’s presence. 

It was _ unusual,_ to say the least. Hangyul had not seen the room in this state since forever. Not since— not since a long time ago. 

Seungyoun was staring out of the window in silence, paying no attention to Hangyul opening the door to his bedroom. From the place he was standing, Hangyul could only make out Seungyoun’s silhouette and none of his expressions. But he knew, from the back of his mind, that something must have happened.

“Seungyoun,” he tried again. Seungyoun looked at Hangyul for a second before nodding. Hangyul took it as a gesture to come in, so he did. He stood a few meters away from Seungyoun. Still, in silence. It had been too long.

“He’s in the room,” Hangyul reported. Seeing no acknowledgement from the person in front of him, he hesitated to ask the questions that had been running on his mind. But he decided to ask anyway, because if Seungyoun was like _ this, _ there _ had _to be something. Something more than just mere blackmail from a journalist that couldn’t have done anything when Seungyoun had ended thousands of media and had the police and the public wrapped around his pinky finger.

So Hangyul asked.

“Why are we keeping him alive?” Hangyul felt something close to irritation? Frustration? He didn’t know. He guessed it was the dark room and the afternoon sun and how everything in Seungyoun’s room reminded him of something he’d rather not. “Why are we keeping him alive when we’ve dealt with something worse than this? I don’t really get—”

“Hangyul,” Seungyoun cut in the middle of his sentence. “He knows too much.”

“We have dealt with people who know too much,” Hangyul said. Stubborn. He wasn’t like this, usually. But Seungyoun wasn’t himself so he didn’t see _ why _ he shouldn’t be weird about Seungyoun’s decision to keep an _ intruder _ alive.

“He knows _ too _ much, Hangyul,” Seungyoun repeated. Hangyul noted how his eyes never left the window. “He knows _ details._ He knows all the shit that no one is supposed to know, maybe not even you.”

Hangyul froze. A slight shiver ran through his skin.

_"Him,_ Hangyul. The only one who knows all the fucking stuff the kid spewed in that room other than me, was _him."_

Hangyul had felt like he was sucked into a spiral of _ déjà vu _as Seungyoun turned his head towards him.

“That journalist kid has something to do with _ him.”_

And Hangyul had not the heart nor courage to ask more questions.

The afternoon sun was bright in the otherwise dark room. 

Hangyul dismissed himself for the night without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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